


Carotid Memories

by merelyans



Series: Vessel Vampires [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Vampire Bites, Vampire Politics, Vampires, side of ushiten, there is only one scene of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyans/pseuds/merelyans
Summary: Old wounds come to surface as Oikawa struggles to merge clans.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi
Series: Vessel Vampires [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960726
Comments: 66
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part three of the Vessel Vampires series, so if you're here for the first time go back and read at least the first! 
> 
> And to all my returning readers, thank you so so much for believing in this series.

“Suga, they’ll be here soon-” Oikawa tries to push Suga off the bed, having sat down to put his socks on, but Suga has other ideas. Suga’s fingers graze across his neck, and he lets out a small groan, throwing the socks aside.

“But they’re not here yet, are they?” Suga smiles against his lips, moving down Oikawa’s neck. “I can be quick.”

“I don’t like when you’re quick,” Oikawa admits, Suga’s tongue swiping down to his collarbones. “I want to take my time unraveling you,” He sucks in a sharp breath as Suga’s hand presses against him, eyes looking up from under his lashes. In other words, Oikawa is utterly powerless. “Fuck, if I knew you’d be like this I would have been nicer to you when we met.”

Suga chuckles against Oikawa’s skin, returning to make temporary claims on his sweet spots, shifting his hips in a way that makes Oikawa’s grip on him tighten. 

“You just want me for my body,” Suga teases, pulling back and running his fingers along the crook of his neck. “Speaking of which, you hungry?”

“You’re going to kill me,” Oikawa whines, looking up at the ceiling. “Actually kill me.”

“What, like how you killed me-”

“How many times do I have to apologize for that?”

“Hm,” Suga hums, running his hands up Oikawa’s bare chest, resting his palms on Oikawa’s shoulders. “A few more times, I guess. You can apologize again after you eat.”

Oikawa reaches up and pulls Suga closer, pressing their lips together. It’s tender, unlike what Suga had been doing just a few minutes ago. Suga’s lips have always been warmer than his own, soft and plump. He always tastes like home cooking, smells like Oikawa’s room, and looks like a dream.

“I won’t say no to that,” Oikawa licks his lips, fangs poking out from underneath, and Suga shudders in his arms, craning his neck to give Oikawa better access.

He’s more careful than he once was, the kisses to find Suga’s veins lighter, always done out of sensation, not necessity. He knows where all of Suga’s veins are, knows where his pulse is the strongest, where bites hurt the most, where he doesn’t mind so much. Still, he kisses the pulse-points, reveling in how he’s able to unravel the human in his grasp. 

All it takes is a small kiss here, a tiny lick there, hum against the pulse point-

“Tooru, just fucking bite me already,” Suga orders, pushing Oikawa closer to his neck. “Remember, they’ll be here soon," He mocks.

Oikawa rolls his eyes even though Suga can’t see, and he sinks his fangs into his favorite pulse point. On Suga’s neck, at least. The one buried in the crook of his neck, between the shoulder and the base of his neck, his face perfectly fitting in place.

Suga winces at the bite, something you always do no matter how many times you’ve been bitten, and Oikawa runs his hands up Suga’s back, slipping his hands under the warmth of his shirt, rubbing his thumbs on either side of Suga’s spine. It relaxes him, Oikawa’s learned, and the blood flows easier.

And Suga tastes wonderful. His lips taste like a home cooked meal, but his blood reminds him of his mother’s vegetable soup, when their spring harvest proved bountiful, when Oikawa would spend hours tending to their farm, sometimes coming back inside chilled to the bone. And there was mom’s soup, nothing special, really, just vegetable broth over rice, everything overboiled and bland.

But it was what home tasted like, all those years ago.

He sucks at the wound, lapping at the surrounding skin, hot gulps sliding down his throat and warming him from the inside-out. He holds Suga closer, careful not to spill a single drop, freely humming his compliments against Suga’s skin so that his human knows exactly what he does to him.

Suga might be feeding Bokuto and Akaashi in between their own meals, but they would never get to see Suga like this. Taste the salt and light soap on his skin, feel his hands run down as he’s fed from, grasping at anything he can to redirect the pain, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to elicit the small sounds Suga makes. This is all for Oikawa, and he cherishes it. 

Oikawa pulls away with another drag of his tongue across the wound, using one fang to puncture his lip before letting it dribble over the wound, effectively closing it up. He pulls back, and carefully picks Suga up so that he’s sitting on the bed.

“You good?” Oikawa asks, grabbing the discarded socks.

“Little woozy,” Suga presses two fingers to his forehead, and lays down flat on his back, legs still draped over the edge of the bed. “Yeah, definitely a little woozy.”

“Did I take too much?” Oikawa frowns, sitting down so that he can put his socks on, looking around for a clean shirt. 

“Nah,” Suga turns to lay on his side, curling his legs up into his body. “Same amount, guess I’m just tired today.”

Oikawa slips a shirt over his head and lays on his side facing Suga, reaching a hand up to brush a lock of hair out of Suga’s face. 

“So cheesy,” Suga blows the piece out of his face, jerking his neck to help. He winces. “Ow, shouldn't have done that after being fed on.”

“Neck sore?” Oikawa looks down at the wound. “You’re getting blood on the bed.”

“There’s been worse things on the bed, Tooru,” Suga giggles, and Oikawa sits up, leaning on one hand as he smooths down Suga’s hair with the other. “I did promise another chance to apologize, after all.”

“That can wait until you’re a little less dizzy,” Oikawa leans down and places a kiss against Suga’s temple. “You have your iron pills, right?”

“And half a tray of brownies.”

“Good, want me to go get them?”

“You have a meeting to get to,” Suga slowly sits up, pressing a hand to his head. “I can manage to get to the kitchen. I’m dizzy, not dying.”

“Just wanna make sure,” Oikawa rubs one last circle on Suga’s back before he stands up, fixing his hair in the mirror before heading downstairs, slipping his shoes on once he reaches the bar. 

It’s already full of workers, Bokuto and Iwaizumi setting up the speakers, Akaashi trying to teach Hinata how to do a simple bar trick, Daichi moving boxes in and out of the fridge, and four new faces in one of the booths. The only vampire among them sniffs the air, and turns to face Oikawa, standing up to greet him.

“Aren’t there supposed to be five of you?” Oikawa cocks an eyebrow at the group, Iwaizumi jogging across the club to join them. 

“Oikawa, you have a little,” Iwaizumi points to his lip, and Oikawa swipes the pad of his thumb across the corner of his mouth, sucking off the small drop of blood. “But yes, isn’t there supposed to be another vampire in your clan?”

“He’s on his way,” The vampire looks up at them, and Oikawa can smell his scent on the human next to him as he takes his seat next to Iwaizumi in the booth. 

“Good,” Oikawa looks at the unmarked humans. “First of all, why are you even here?”

“That’s a little rude,” The one with pink hair fake-pouts. “Vampires, think everyone should have their blood in them.”

“I’d like to have my blood in him,” The other says.

“Oh of course, a bite on the neck? Lovely.”

“Fang-chasers, then,” Oikawa tears his attention away from the two humans, trying to remember what Kuroo said everyone’s names were. Unfortunately, for someone so smart and someone in his position, Kuroo’s not very good with names. At least, not good with the names of people who don’t interest him. “I thought you were all in a car crash together?”

“Oh, uh,” The vampire, Yahaba, perhaps, looks down at his lap. “Yes, we were. I… well I died, that’s obvious, and the one we’re waiting on was already a vampire so when he died, well, he just kinda… he was fine.”

Oikawa nods with a short hum.

“How long ago?”

“A year,” Yahaba answers. 

“We got these wicked scars,” One of the unmarked humans lifts up his sleeve, a thick scar on his arm. “I can pretend I got them in battle.”

“No one can disprove it,” The other shrugs.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa, Oikawa suddenly remember, but the marked human and the other vampire’s names evade him completely.

“So Yahaba, as you can see,” Iwaizumi gestures around the club. “Everyone who’s part of this clan works here at least one day a week, can you make that commitment?”

“I can,” He nods. “I can even work more, if you’d like. I’m…” He smiles, his smile twitching. “I’m really happy that I can join a clan. I’ve heard a lot about this clan, and I’m honored to be under people as strong as yourselves,” He bows his head, and Oikawa shares a look with Iwaizumi, both puffing out their chests.

“Well we are second-generations,” Iwaizumi mumbles.

“Yes, and I ripped a third-generation’s throat out with my teeth,” Oikawa proudly proclaims.

“That’s not something to be proud of, Trashykawa.”

“It got me to mark Suga, didn’t it?”

Iwaizumi sighs, and looks at the marked human. 

“Kyoutani, correct?” He grunts in response. “Marked humans aren’t required to work here, but you can, since you’re inherently part of the clan, too. You two,” Iwaizumi gestures to the fang-chasers. “I would say that you have no obligation at all, but something tells me you’d both love working here.”

“I can finally break out my fancy shoes,” Matsukawa deadpans.

“Also,” Iwaizumi continues. “We have some of our marked humans feeding other vampires that don’t have a constant supply, namely those two over there,” He points to Akaashi and Bokuto, where Bokuto has joined Hinata in trying to learn Akaashi’s bar tricks, failing miserably. “But it’s entirely up to you, if you wanna offer your blood to the clan or not.”

“I belong to Yahaba,” He growls, and Oikawa nods. 

He knows that feeling all too well. 

“That’s pretty much it, really,” Oikawa leans back on the couch. “Merging clans is pretty easy unless someone challenges the leader, but I’ll have you know that I will always find a way to win,” The four of them shiver, a light waft of fear tactic hanging in the air. “That’s all.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to speak, but the double doors open and Kuroo enters, all shit-eating smiles, dragging another vampire behind him.

“I think I found one of your new ones lurking around on my way over,” He pushes the vampire towards the group. “Thought I would do you a favor and bring him in.” He looks to his right, and Bokuto pulls off the trick. “Shit, bro, that’s so cool!”

“I know!”

Kuroo goes over to the bar, Akaashi adding another student to his bar tricks class, and Oikawa feels Iwaizumi stiffen beside him. 

“Well if you’re going to be late, might as well tell someone where you are,” Oikawa sighs, turning his attention to the new vampire. “Otherwise we’re going to have a probl-”

He catches his first glimpse of the vampire’s face, pale skin, bored expression. He learned a long time ago that the emotion was held in his eyes, and the angry red that blossoms triggers something in him. Guilt? No, stronger than guilt. Regret? No… Well, yes, that.

Remorse? 

Yeah. That’s a better word for it.

He purses his lips, heart dropping into his stomach as he folds his hands on the table in front of him, pushing down the dread growing in the back of his throat, threatening to purge his stomach of Suga’s blood.

The name is bitter on his tongue, but he speaks through the cottonmouth dryness.

“Kunimi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Oikawa really hates onions.  
> Iwaizumi is still a great friend.  
> Tanaka crashes Ladies' Night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! 
> 
> *throws biodegradable confetti right into your face, effectively blinding you* 
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe and healthy this holiday season and wishing everyone the best

“I hate that I am the one that has to do this,” Oikawa mumbles to himself, kneeling in the dirt, plucking ripe onions out of the ground, shaking them off before putting them into the basket. It's hot, and sweaty, but it needs to be done if he's going to be able to feed Takeru tonight.

“Hate is a rather strong word,” Iwaizumi scolds, wiping his sweaty brow, a streak of dirt swiped across his forehead, rake slung over his shoulder as he squints up into the sun.

“I rather _dislike_ picking onions, Hajime,” Oikawa fixes, and Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, digging the rake back into the untilled soil. “I should not be wasting my beauty on something as mundane as this.”

He angrily shakes an onion at Iwaizumi for emphasis, hooves starting to rumble in the distance. Oikawa knows that sound very well, and he drops the onion where it lays, nearly jumping to his feet as he rushes to the edge of his family’s property, Iwaizumi shouting for him to come back behind him. His footsteps are heavy, legs weak from kneeling for so long, but he hobbles down to the edge like his life depends on it.

He makes it just in time, the sun high overhead, beating down on his shoulders, his cotton tatters that he dared call clothing dirtied from many days’ work, clinging to his sun-kissed skin. But this was the best part of his day, his week, his month, getting to see that ox-drawn carriage pass by his small strip of land, some of the only proof that something existed outside of the village he’s never left the confines of. Proof that there was something beyond harvesting onions and tending to the rice paddies.

And then there was _him._

The leader of it all, Ushijima Wakatoshi-sama, one of the most beautiful men Oikawa has ever had the honor of laying his unworthy peasant eyes on.

Not that he thought a man would be beautiful, but from some of the more… _risque_ works that have been read to him in the cover of secrecy with the local scholar, maybe he’s just starting to believe that a man _could_ be beautiful.

And he is.

He very much is.

The carriage passes, the rumble of its wheels bouncing through the valley, and shows him Ushijima-sama and some redheaded man. They're seated a little too close for Oikawa’s comfort, yet somehow confirming some twisted desire that someone like Ushijima-sama would let some man get so close. His eyes gaze out to the right, like clockwork, and Oikawa feels his stomach drop in sheer anticipation. Every time he passes, without fail, he meets Oikawa’s eye with vague interest, like he expects Oikawa to be there whenever the sound of cloven hooves resonate in the valley, waiting for him.

And he is.

He very much is.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi yells after him, taking off across the plot. “We have a whole field to harvest! Get back here!”

But Oikawa wouldn't miss his short glimpse of such lavishness for anything, not the promise of Iwaizumi scolding him for abandoning his post, not his mother and sister telling him that his place is in the field. He can forget that there are monsters in the woods, pretend not to be terrified of the bloodsuckers he was raised to fear above the other monsters, and pretend that he’ll amount to more than being a peasant.

Just for a moment, once or twice a month since he was little, he can pretend that he’s in that carriage, too, and that there’s something more than just a farm, a friend, raising his nephew, one general store that never has anything for sale, and one person in the village that can read.

He meets Ushijima-sama’s eyes as he passes.

Ushijima-sama whispers something to the redhead, the redhead meeting Oikawa’s gaze, eyes narrowed, judging, analyzing. He turns his head, tilting it in question, and Ushijima-sama just nods, the carriage passing by without so much as another sound.

And Oikawa knows, deep in his hopeful heart, that they were talking about him.

-

Suga took a shot before Tanaka even got there, the desperate and lonely text messages enough to give him a headache.

He just knows that whatever Tanaka has to say, he’ll need at least one shot of tequila in his system before he hears it, especially on Ladies’ Night. All of Vessel is swarming with human and vampire women alike, Akaashi, Bokuto, and Hinata desperately trying to fulfill every order before drinks stop being half off at midnight.

Needless to say, it’s been a very busy night, and Tooru opting to catch up with Kunimi upstairs was more than enough to set the entire staff off-kilter for the whole evening. Tooru might end up needing that tequila shot, too.

“Bokuto,” Suga moves through the crowd with one fluid motion, throwing away some of the leftover cups he’s found in random places, namely stacked on top of expensive speakers and in the bathroom, sorting out the recyclables. “Why did you give that person half off?”

“Said she identified as a woman,” Bokuto shrugs as he shovels ice into the plastic cups in his hands, eyes following the bearded person he just served.

Suga can’t argue with that, so he just leaves everything to Akaashi and ducks into the fridge when Tanaka comes up to the bar, eyes full of tears and Nishinoya on his arm. Inside, Iwaizumi is drinking from a blood bag, leaning on one of the shelves and scrolling through his twitter feed.

Suga gives him a sideways glance, and Iwaizumi shrugs, “I’m on break.”

“Wish I was,” Suga groans, pulling a lime crate out of the bottom storage, rummaging through them and inspecting them one by one before moving them to another crate. “It’s the busiest I’ve ever seen this place.”

“You know, you could have gotten Yahaba and Kyoutani to do this, maybe even Matsukawa or Hanamaki.”

“Matsukawa and Hanamaki are on the floor trying to get bitten, and I think Kyoutani is hiding in the corner,” Suga sighs, pressing his fingers to his forehead. “Yahaba is a great worker, though, I already think he deserves a promotion. I might as well do the dumb lime inspection myself.”

A smile passes through Iwaizumi’s lips as he brings the blood bag up to his mouth, “You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

Suga freezes and stares at the lime in his hands, the sad little thing as big as his palm and blemish-free. He tosses it into the crate without another glance.

“Tanaka and Kanoka broke up,” Suga grits his teeth. “And I have heard about it every minute of every day that I am in my own apartment since it happened.”

“Is that why you’ve been spending the night with Oikawa so much lately?” He half-snickers, Suga lightly pushing his shoulder.

“Ha ha, very funny. But no. As much as I love Tanaka, I _cannot_ stand him when he’s heartbroken like this,” Suga rests his head against the work table in the center, the metal cool enough to give him brain freeze.

“Yeah…” Iwaizumi trails off, the sound of slurping punctuating his sentence. “You should see Tooru when he’s sulking. Sometimes I just want to throttle him and tell him to grow up. If it weren’t for your influence, he wouldn’t be calmly talking to Kunimi upstairs. It would probably be passive-aggressive stares and then Oikawa throwing one of his fits.”

“Who even is he?” Suga moves to rest his cheek against the table, looking up at Iwaizumi as he puts the blood bag into a biohazard bag. “Kunimi, I mean.”

“It’s…” He breathes, clenching the blood bag in his hands a little too tightly, Suga wondering if it’s going to explode in his hand. Another reminder to never get on Iwa’s bad side. “Complicated?”

“When aren’t things complicated around here?” Suga snorts, looking at more limes with the same interest as reading the weather section of a newspaper. He stands up straight, and nearly cries out.

Pain shoots through his leg, and he immediately drops down to massage his calf, his achilles heel throbbing. These were definitely not the shoes he wanted to wear to work today, but he left all his other pairs in his apartment. Luckily, Oikawa will smell the blood from the blisters like he usually does and offer to heal it for him, which he always appreciates.

Damn vampires and their perfect ability to never have to deal with shoe pain. 

“True,” Iwaizumi puts his phone back in his pocket, the screen still open on his texts, and crosses his arms over his chest, Suga moving the new box of limes back onto the shelf with a slight limp. “Remember the kid Oikawa turned?”

“The one Tendou killed?” Suga massages his calf, leaning on the metal table.

Iwaizumi grunts in response, “He and Kunimi were…” He makes vague hand motions back and forth. “Involved.”

“Like dating?”

Iwaizumi’s eye twitches a little, “More like they had sex without ever confessing their feelings for each other.”

“Oh, so like Yamaguchi and that blonde kid with the tongue piercing that keeps coming around?”

Suga briefly wonders how that’s going, with it being a vampire/human relationship and all. But then again, now that he thinks about it, there’s a lot more relationships at Vessel than he thought, with Daichi apparently having a girlfriend named Yui that he “forgot” to tell Suga about.

He’s only slightly mad, and will scold Daichi later.

“Yeah, kinda like that,” Iwaizumi nods. “As soon as Kindaichi died, Kunimi left and we never saw him again. I’m surprised that he’s back in Japan, let alone friends with a bunch of humans. Must be hard on Oikawa,” His voice trails off a little, and he sucks in the rest of his drink.

“Is this going to be another Oikawa getting angry about his past and killing me thing?” Suga deadpans, face going flat. “Because the next time I die I’m staying undead.”

Iwaizumi’s face twitches into one of his rare but entirely genuine fond smiles.

“Don’t let Shittykawa hear you say that, he might just do it.”

“Yeah, well, he’s done it before,” Suga pushes out of the fridge and immediately walks into a pair of open arms, pushing him down so that a chin can rest on his head. “Speaking of Shittykawa, Tooru, you seem pretty handsy tonight.”

Suga’s heart throbs against his chest. Damn, how much of that did he just hear?

“Just wanted a hug,” He mumbles into Suga’s hair, inhaling. “Can’t I do that?”

Suga lets him, grip tightening around his body. It’s not crushing like he expected vampires to hug, the way Bokuto, Hinata, and Yamaguchi hug, not knowing their own strength but it’s firm, comforting. Tooru’s presence is, in essence, comforting.

He nestles further into the hug, letting Tooru readjust his arms, hand reaching up to brush slender fingers against the base of his collarbone, over where he knows the mark rests. Tooru sighs in his ear, and pulls away with a small pat, “You staying over again tonight?”

“I shouldn’t,” Suga catches a glimpse of a blubbering Tanaka. “But believe me, I want to.”

“Can you stay a little after?”

His voice is small, tired, and even if they’re behind the bar on one of their busiest nights, it’s a tone reserved for Suga and Suga alone. Suga sighs, cracks a smile, and turns around, standing on his toes to gently kiss Tooru’s cheek.

“I guess I could spare a few hours.”

“Thank you,” Tooru brushes past him with a lingering touch, fixing Hinata’s shaker lid before he starts mixing. “Oh, and take it easy, your feet are bleeding again, love.”

One more tired yet knowing glance towards Suga, eyes dipping down to his feet with a small sense of anger that his shoes would have the audacity of marking his skin, and he makes his way back upstairs. 

Suga clears his throat, and gets back to work, walking through the dull ache of his heel, only the promise of getting Tooru’s full attention after his shift enough to put a smile on his face.

After all, Vessel is his home now, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Oikawa gets a taste of luxury.  
> Kunimi is a lot chiller than you'd expect.  
> Suga really needs new work shoes.


	3. Chapter 3

Oikawa’s fists are clenched, and he doesn't dare look up. If Iwaizumi wasn't here with him, he’d probably have melted into the floor by now, under the intense gaze of none other than Ushijima-sama. 

It’s not his stare that he’s worried about, but the eyes of the redhead, Tendou-san (sama?), as far as Oikawa’s gathered. His eyes are piercing, so much worse than the heavy stare Ushijima likes to compose himself with.

He’s been bought, but he is not property. He’s a servant, and his family will receive money for his services, his well being cared for by the estate. He may not belong to the man before him, but he still feels a sense of loyalty. He’ll never have to work on a farm again, and the money he receives will bring his family greater happiness than they ever would have known with him there.

“Satori, I thought we had only discussed taking on one new worker,” Ushijima speaks for the first time, voice rippling through Oikawa like a stormy sea. It’s commanding, the voice of a champion, a boss. The voice of a man that demands a presence yet never seeks it out.

“Ah,” Tendou holds up his finger. “The yard boy is unfortunately no longer with us, very mysterious things, indeed.”

“I do not appreciate your ‘mysterious things’,” Ushijima directs his voice to Tendou, Oikawa’s eyes firmly planted on the mat in front of him. It’s like an inside joke, a repeated wish. “I would like to keep my workers.”

“I will try my best, Wakatoshi-kun,” Oikawa can hear the admiration, the fondness, dripping from Tendou’s voice. “And we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Their families shared the farm, and can share the money. We spend less for the both of them in the end, and we get workers that already share a certain… bond.”

“I guess we do need a new worker now,” Ushijima hums. “I cannot deny that this does create an opportunity I would like to utilize.”

“I knew you’d see things my way, Wakatoshi,” Tendou drops the honorific, and his sandals appear in Oikawa’s field of vision. He drops down, and Oikawa meets his gaze, those eyes piercing through him like they know every secret he’s ever kept. The time he lied about not getting to the fishery before they closed, when he got sidetracked by a field of flowers. The time he lied to Iwaizumi that his robe didn’t make him look bigger. The night visits to the scholar, reading erotica he most definitely should not have been reading.

Tendou smiles like he knows, and grabs Oikawa’s chin, showing him off to Ushijima. It’s just the four of them alone, and it’s more than enough to put Oikawa on edge. Everything about the room feels bare, like the room isn’t used occasionally. All there is, is two mats, one of which had to be added upon their arrival, a place for the two men to sit and overlook the mats, a hamper full of towels and cloth, and two freshly laundered robes resting on the table next to the hamper.

It’s odd, but Oikawa doesn’t question it. It’s not his place to ask questions, and the wrong ones could end his life.

One of Tendou-san’s “mysterious things”, he figures.

“Well, if we are taking them in,” Tendou grins at Ushijima, moving over to Iwaizumi and lifting his head up, staring with the same intensity. “We should get a taste of what they might be like for us.”

A taste? 

Like what chores he can do. That has to be it. He’ll have to show off how well he can serve his new master, how well he can carry out basic tasks. That makes sense, if the roles were switched, he would want to know the skills of who he’s taking on.

“I happen to agree,” Ushijima stands up, towering over Oikawa where he kneels. “Mind if I have Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa’s stomach lurches, a gross sense of despair and dread flowing through his veins like a bucket of cold water. His heart pounds against his chest, swelling in fluttering intervals.

“He was your choice, after all,” Tendou says, dropping to his knees, eye level with Iwaizumi, a hungry look painting his features. “But do not have too much fun, Wakatoshi, you have had your eye on him for a while now.”

“I would warn yourself before I, Tendou,” Ushijima-sama stares down at him, and Oikawa can feel himself gulp.

“You know me well, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou says, pulling on Iwaizumi’s robe, dipping into the crook of his neck.

Iwaizumi lets out a sort of shriek before Tendou covers his mouth with his palm, Iwaizumi’s face twisting in panicked horror. His muffled screams are quickly drowned out by the sound of wet slurping, and all Oikawa can do is stare in dumbstruck terror, limbs too heavy as Ushijima-sama sits him up, carefully pulling back the collar of his own robe.

He doesn’t notice the tears in his eyes until they sting, eyes locked on Iwaizumi, body trembling in pain, Tendou gripping his hair, pulling back with a satisfied moan. His teeth are sharp, deadly, eyes lidded but festering a deep crimson.

Oikawa watches Iwaizumi slump to the ground next to him with a heavy thud, Tendou licking his bloodied lips, moving to cradle Iwaizumi before taking his neck in a different position. Oikawa turns his head, another pair of angry red gazing greedily, a large hand grasping his lower back to keep him in place.

His body goes rigid at the first plunge, and he lets out a sharp shriek as the deep fangs mark his very core.

-

“It’s actually a surprise to see you here, Kunimi,” Oikawa pours tea for them both, Kunimi leaning over the kitchen counter. “I remember you as someone who didn’t care much for others.”

“And I remember you as a pompous brat who refused to answer to others,” Kunimi retorts, a small smile on his face as he traces the rim of the tea Oikawa puts in front of him.

“I’ve gone domestic,” Oikawa sips his own tea, the burn from drinking too soon healing instantly. “But I guess we’ve both changed since, what was it, 1938?”

“Forty,” Kunimi corrects. “We had just entered the war.”

“Ah,” Oikawa frowns into his tea. “That’s right. Kindaichi died a week after the treaty was signed.”

They sit there for a minute, sipping on their tea in silence. It’s not hostile, but too quiet for Oikawa’s liking. Kunimi seems uninterested, but there’s a sort of calm anger behind his eyes, evident in the way that he hasn’t looked Oikawa in the eye since he entered.

“Kunimi,” Oikawa sighs, and Kunimi’s gaze snaps towards him. Maybe it’s a blessing Kunimi hasn’t looked at him much, that calm anger paralyzing.

“Don’t apologize, Oikawa,” He almost hisses. “I don’t need your apology.”

“But it was through my errors that Kindaichi is dead-”

“Yes,” Kunimi cuts him off, setting his tea aside and clasping his fingers together. “But it was not you who chose revenge. You gave him new life, a happy life. He died the day he turned, and his death caught up to him.”

“If he was made by any other vampire-”

“Oikawa,” Kunimi stops him, sighs, and props himself up on his elbow. “I’ve moved on. Kindaichi meant a lot to me, he meant a lot to you. We had very different relationships with him, but it’s been eighty years. I’ve moved on,” He repeats, gaze hardening. “Why haven’t you?”

Oikawa’s hand starts to clench at his cup, and he stares down at the petals floating in his cup. He gives it a little swirl, his frown deepening, “I don’t know.”

It’s a quiet truth, one that’s been creeping up on him ever since he killed Suga. He’s still controlled by his guilt, his anger. It’s gotten better, nearly tenfold, the most progress he’s ever wanted to make, but it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Just how long is he going to hold onto his past?

“I have new friends, now. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are something close to fang-chasers for the sheer thrill of it, but they’re good people. Yahaba is hopelessly pining for Kyoutani and Kyoutani thinks he’s stuck in one-sided pining, so watch out for that.”

“So you’ll be joining Vessel?” Oikawa gawks, and Kunimi nods.

“I know you. Trust you, almost. You’ve always been a strong leader, and I doubt that’s something that’s changed. I was not expecting you to have a marked human, though.”

Oikawa finds himself smiling at the thought of Suga, “He’s more than that.”

“I can see,” Kunimi finishes his tea. “And I look forward to seeing him join our ranks in the future.”

“What?” Oikawa sputters. “Koushi would never-”

Kunimi’s eyes make him eat those words, and he swallows thickly, “It’ll be interesting working here, and I look forward to it.” Kunimi walks up to him, smiles in a way that makes Oikawa shiver, and Kunimi grabs his collar, pulling him in. “But if you ever talk about Kindaichi’s death and not about who he was as a person again, I’ll rip your fangs out.”

Kunimi loosens his grip and turns around, giving a small wave as he exits the building. Oikawa coughs a little, smooths out his clothes, and sets the tea down, staring out the sink window at the line that’s forming below. 

He sucks in a breath and cleans the mugs, opening the fridge and seeing what pathetic amount of human food he and Iwa have managed to accumulate over the past few days. Takeout from Asahi’s place, Suga’s leftover muffin from breakfast, and half a dozen eggs. He pulls out his phone and makes note of a few things to get, and stops, thumb hovering over his list.

Tofu, radish, potato, carrot, vegetable stock…

He closes the list with a dry mouth and slips it back into his pocket before he can add the final ingredient, his body suddenly heavy. He needs a hug. He needs just something to hold, something to grab. Someone. 

He needs Suga.

He breathes away the welling tears in his eyes and heads downstairs, scanning over the busy room for a familiar tuft of grey. A pale hand opens the door in the corner of the bar, and Tooru slips behind Bokuto and Hinata, who are trying to replicate the tricks they learned earlier. 

Suga’s head is still turned, and walks right into his arms, fitting like a puzzle piece Oikawa wants to solve over and over again. He rests his chin on Suga’s head, and clenches his eyes shut, letting the warmth fill his core.

“Speaking of Shittykawa, Tooru, you seem pretty handsy tonight,” Suga laughs a bit, tensing up the smallest bit.

“Just wanted a hug,” He mumbles into Suga’s hair, inhaling. He smells like his own apple shampoo, his own vampiric scent, a mix of vanilla and dirt, mixing in with the sickly sweet blood under the surface of his skin. “Can’t I do that?”

He tightens his grip, and Suga pushes further into the hug, Oikawa readjusting his grip to run his fingers over Suga’s frame. He looks down at the mark. Did Kunimi really mean it when he said that Suga might want a new life?

All he can do is sigh and give Suga a small pat, “You staying over again tonight?”

He’s too hopeful sometimes. Hopeful that Suga would move in already, but he’s not one to be so controlling. Suga has a life outside of him, even if he doesn’t have much of one outside of Suga.

“I shouldn’t,” Suga’s gaze drifts to his crying roommate, distaste plastered on his lips. “But believe me, I want to.”

“Can you stay a little after?” Oikawa begs. It’s selfish, but he can’t think of a better medicine. Suga sighs, cracks a smile, and turns around, standing on his toes to gently kiss his cheek, warmth lingering.

“I guess I could spare a few hours.”

It’s all he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” Oikawa brushes past him with a lingering touch, turning to Hinata, fixing his lid before he starts another trick. A small scent wafts in the air, and he returns his attention to Suga, to his feet. “Oh, and take it easy, your feet are bleeding again, love.”

He doesn’t hang around long enough to see Suga’s reaction, opting to go upstairs where he can get dressed into something more comfortable, something that isn’t a dress shirt and fancy slacks. 

He loves his job, but there’s nights where all he can do is leave it to Iwa and the rest of his clan. They’re smart, as much as he hates to admit it, and with Suga running things, he can rest easy.

He pulls his phone back out once he’s settled in, curled up on the couch next to Akaashi on his break, some stupid movie he’s not really playing in the background, He reads and rereads his list. It’s almost foreign, the recipe, but he speaks it fluently. His thumbs hover over the keyboard, the cursor blinking back at him, taunting.

His thumbs move on their own.

Tofu, radish, potato, carrot, vegetable stock, green onion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Local chef traumatized by vampires.  
> Bokuto eats mochi.  
> Iwaizumi doesn't like soup.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with how this turned out but I think it's probably just all in my head :/

Oikawa wakes up feeling like shit. It’s like someone poked a stick into his ear and scrambled his brain, his throat raw and uncomfortably dry, throbbing every time he tries to move more than one muscle at a time. 

The ceiling is dark, blurry, and he tries to will it into taking shape. Any shape. Anything other than the memory of red eyes and the deep plunge of Ushijima-sama’s fangs.

A throat clears to his right, and he blearily turns his head, wincing as tears start to bead, Iwaizumi sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest next to the laundry hamper, already changed into a fresh set of robes. 

“You had passed out,” He speaks, voice rough and raspy, unblinking as he stares forward. “They are gone now, and we have the rest of the night off to recover, to regain our strength to work at dawn.”

Oikawa sits up, frantic, arms failing him as he crashes back into the mat. It’s sticky, his hands slick as he props himself back up, trembling under his own weight. It takes all of three seconds to find out what the slickness is from, and he turns his red palms upwards, a squawk leaving his throat as the tears spill freely. 

Monsters. He’s a servant to monsters. A thing to be fed on. He’s no better than an animal waiting for the slaughter. 

And it’s the slaughter that he’s always feared the most, unable to stare into those innocent eyes, take a life with his own two hands, not even with his own survival on the line. 

He lets out a strangled wail, a sort of cry that mourns his own loss. 

Iwaizumi throws a wet washcloth at his face, shutting him up with an audible thwap. It flops to the ground like a lump of wet dirt, and starts to soak up some of the blood.

“They healed us,” Iwaizumi explains. “And let us live.”

“They-”

“They still agree to feed and house us,” Iwaizumi’s eyes darken. “And pay our families handsomely.”

Oikawa gawks, and Iwaizumi nods to the washcloth.

“They will not kill us here, so we best accept that this is our life, now.”

“Among the monsters?” Oikawa whispers, eyes wide. 

“Among those that decide whether we live or die,” Iwaizumi corrects, opening up his body to grab the extra change of robes. “I do not want this, either, but if it means my mother will live a happy life, my father, my siblings and every generation after that, then I will gladly carry the burden of feeding a monster.”

“But-” Oikawa cuts himself off, hands gripping at the washcloth like it’s the last string connecting him to his past life. “Iwa…”

“You still have me, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi tries to smile, but it quickly falls flat, his brow furrowed. He continues, his voice cracking. “We only have each other now.”

He nods, a short pathetic motion, and Iwaizumi bursts into silent tears, shoulders bouncing as his hands reach up as if to force the tears back in.

He’s never been one to cry in front of others, to make a sound so vulnerable, to let anyone know that he’s anything other than mildly inconvenienced. He’s the one that lifts others up, carries them when they can’t carry themselves. Iwaizumi _never_ cries.

Oikawa’s stomach clenches, biting his lip as he wipes his hands and neck free of his own blood, changes into a new robe that feels so expensive it’s uncomfortable, marking the end of his life as a peasant, and the start of his life as a vampire’s servant.

At least he isn’t alone.

-

“It’s…” Asahi’s eyes dart back and forth, looking at Nishinoya for reassurance. He gets a thumbs up, and he meets Oikawa’s eyes. “It’s an honor to have you ask for my help.”

“Well,” Oikawa picks up a spoon, inspecting it like it’s the first time he’s ever seen one. “Why strengthen my bond with a restaurant if I don’t utilize it?”

“So, what kind of recipe are you looking to make?” Asahi fumbles for a pen and paper from his apron, and Oikawa slides his phone across the table, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest. Asahi stares, mouth slightly open, and he meets Oikawa’s eyes again. “This seems a little easy, are you sure you need my help?”

Oikawa scowls, and Asahi looks like he’s about to explode. 

“But!” He tries to save. “That just means it’ll be a quick lesson! I’m sure you-”

“It’s been three hundred years,” Oikawa leans on his hand, looking bored. “And I was banned from the kitchen then, too.”

Asahi stares, urging Oikawa to continue.

“I’ll know it when I taste it, and can make it on my own. I just need to make sure I don’t burn my house down while using modern appliances.”

“Oh,” Asahi’s mouth forms a circle, and he sets the pen and paper down. “Well that should be even easier, I can probably pop over on my break and show you in about five minutes, is that okay?”

“That’ll be just fine,” Oikawa takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket. “I assume we’ll settle our tab next week like always?”

“Sounds good,” Asahi nods.

“Then I’ll be on my way,” Oikawa grabs the bag of takeout from next to him, standing up in a motion so fluid that it can’t be human, and walks out without so much as a goodbye.

Asahi lets out a small sigh, a small hand resting on his shoulder. He looks up at Nishinoya, and breathes easier. “Oh man, that was terrifying.”

“You did good, Asahi,” Nishinoya pats his shoulder, slinging a towel over his shoulder, grin wide on his lips. “I’ve never seen the boss be that nice to a human other than Suga!”

“Thanks,” Asahi smiles, checking the clock. “But, why does he want to start cooking?”

Nishinoya shrugs, moving to a table that just left to clean it off. “I don’t know, he’s never wanted to before,” Nishinoya picks up the plate, thinking. “But then again, I don’t think Oikawa’s been himself lately. He’s… different, ever since he saw Tendou, and Tendou doesn't make it any better by coming to visit.”

Asahi tries to follow along, but he gave up on trying to create logic out of the club next door long ago, ever since it went from a normal club to an openly vampiric one. Human politics rarely interested him, and vampire politics even less so. 

All he cares about is that the people he holds close are safe enough to be happy, and as long as Nishinoya’s grinning, he’s happy, too.

-

“Is he?” Yamaguchi whimpers from the barstool at the island, leaning into Suga.

“I think he is,” Suga nods, astonished.

“Is Oikawa dying?” Bokuto whispers, and Oikawa points a knife at them.

“Stop acting like it’s so weird that I’m cooking my loyal subjects such a nice meal,” He waves the knife around before returning it to the cutting board, making thick, ragged cuts so close to his fingers that Suga’s scared he’s going to chop them off. “Ungrateful, all of you.”

“It's just,” Suga winces as Oikawa slams the knife down onto an onion. “When was the last time you cooked something?”

“Eh,” Oikawa shrugs nonchalantly. “Seventeen something. Maybe nineteen something.”

Suga almost chokes on his spit.

“Oh, don’t look so worried,” Oikawa adds the massacred vegetables to the broth that Suga had to monitor, the heat turned up so high that the liquid could be considered a weapon. Apparently, Oikawa doesn’t know what a “light simmer” is. “I’ve made this recipe before. I may not be Hinata or Mister Goatee next door, but I can cook!”

Suga doubts it, and Oikawa adds the last of his vegetable slaughter to the broth.

“Now,” Oikawa points a newly-bought ladle at them. “Why are you all up here instead of working?”

“On break,” Yamaguchi quickly covers.

“Shift ended,” Suga smiles.

“Hiding from Keiji,” Bokuto mumbles, all eyes turning to face him. “I ate his mochi,” Bokuto whispers an explanation, staring at his fidgeting fingers like he’s committed a crime. “I didn't see his name on it, I swear! But if I die, it was Keiji.”

Oikawa stirs the pot, everyone making idle chatter for the next few minutes, the smell of soup starting to fill the entirety of the kitchen. He hums as he works, a small song with no rhythm, no tempo, no lilt. A sad thing, something ancient. 

It’s a side that Suga’s never seen before. Something so soft, so vulnerable. Like the years haven’t hardened him, eyes before the loss of a loved one, before the weight of the years stamped him out.

But he doubts this is the Oikawa that existed so long ago. From Iwaizumi’s stories, and what he’s been able to piece together, Oikawa was naive, and quick to trust. This Oikawa before him, this man is a different kind of vulnerable.

Weathered.

When the soup reaches whatever consistency Oikawa’s happy with, he spoons it into four bowls, gleaming proudly over his work as he passes the spoons.

Suga looks down at the bowl, the vegetables soggy and wilted, the broth nothing more than a half-step above water. Suga finds a chunk of equally overcooked and raw carrot that hasn’t been chopped all the way through, and brings it to his mouth, the steam tickling his nose as he closes his lips around it.

It’s… not the worst thing he’s ever eaten. It’s better than the condiment concoction his college roommates made him eat during a night of drunken truth or dare, and it’s definitely a plus that he can swallow it. 

Bokuto chokes a little next to him, and Yamaguchi discreetly spits into a napkin. Bokuto leans in. “If I die, it wasn’t Keiji, it was the soup.”

“Oh come on,” Suga gets another spoonful, which isn’t as mushy as the last. “It’s not that bad.”

Oikawa eats his own spoonful, and chews, swallowing before his face twists in mild dissatisfaction, frowning at his own bowl.

“It’s not that bad, Tooru,” Suga reassures, eating either a potato or a radish. “It’s the first time you’ve cooked in a while, so don’t beat yourself up-”

“It’s better than I remember,” Oikawa eats another spoonful, shrugging. “I blame the pre-made stock, since my cooking skills have definitely not gotten any better over the years.”

The door flings open, Iwaizumi stepping into the kitchen with his nose in the air, sniffing before turning his head to the kitchen.

“Oikawa,” He begins slowly, looking at the bowls of soup. “Did you-”

“Try some!” Oikawa pushes his own bowl towards Iwaizumi with a grin. “It’s better than I used to make it.”

Iwaizumi looks at the bowl with a clenched jaw, and gives a defeated sigh. He dips the spoon into the soup and tries a chunk, chewing before his eyebrows knit together.

“You’re not wrong,” He speaks through his mouthful, swallowing. “But uh, you feeling okay?”

“Yes,” Oikawa takes his bowl back, happily stirring the contents. “Why wouldn’t I be anything but fine?”

Iwaizumi looks at the other occupants of the room, Yamaguchi and Bokuto shuffling out and back downstairs. Suga remains planted in his seat, and Iwaizumi turns his attention back to Oikawa. 

“It’s your sister's recipe.”

“Yes, it is,” Oikawa blanks. “Is that an issue?”

“You…” Iwaizumi crosses his arms over his chest, bringing one hand up to scratch his neck. “You always said this soup was the worst memory of our human life. That it was bland and bitter, and that it was always too earthy because it reminded you of farming onions.”

“Well, yeah,” Oikawa finishes his bowl, voice getting smaller. “It sucks, but I’ve been craving it recently. Suga kinda tastes like it now.”

There’s worry written all over Iwaizumi’s face, Oikawa straightening up and putting the bowls in the sink, Suga forcing down one more spoonful before handing it off, just to show Oikawa that it’s really not that terrible. His stomach hurts, just a little, but it’s not Oikawa’s abysmal cooking, or the offense of being compared to vegetable soup.

He’s never seen Iwaizumi look so concerned. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi starts, but Oikawa sends him a glare that screams ‘we’ll talk about this later’. “Alright.”

“I’ve gotta go back downstairs,” Oikawa looks around for a container, and pours the rest of the soup into a tupperware that Suga last saw being used to congeal blood for a fruit smoothie. 

He slips around the counter and places a quick kiss against Suga’s cheek before opening the door and descends the staircase. Iwaizumi looks at Suga, and Suga spins around in his chair, waving vaguely. “Alright, Iwa, spill.”

“He made soup,” Iwaizumi looks down at the tupperware before sticking it in the fridge, forehead creased with more lines than Suga’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” Suga nods. “He did.”

“He hates this soup.”

“It’s not very good soup.”

“It’s awful,” Iwaizumi agrees, getting something to wash out the taste. “Peasant soup, circa 1710.”

“You guys used to eat that stuff?” Suga grabs the soda Iwaizumi slides towards him and chases the growing bitter twinge in the back of his throat.

“I enjoy living next to a restaurant,” Iwaizumi says, picking up one of the leftover bowls, grimacing, and turning it over into the sink. “It’s so much easier than learning how to cook properly.”

“So,” Suga pulls one of his knees up to his chest, his heel slipping off the edge of the seat. “He made soup, what’s the big deal?”

Iwaizumi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning over the counter. “It’s not the soup, it’s the fact he’s remembering his human life. Which means he’s remembering his time with Ushijima, and you know how that always turns out.”

Suga brings a hand up to his throat, and Iwaizumi continues. 

“Kunimi’s return means remembering Kindaichi, which means remembering Tendou, which means remembering everything that led up to this,” He motions at his own red eyes before they fade back to green. “And I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Has this happened before?” Suga’s lips twitch downwards. 

“A few times, each more-” He clenches his hands and shakes them in frustration. “He made soup, Suga. He cooked! He didn’t even like cooking when we were human!”

“What can we do? Let him ride through it or force him out?”

“I don’t know,” Iwaizumi holds his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes. “Last time it happened, he turned Kindaichi. Something new to look forward to, a new chapter instead of whatever he keeps reliving in his head.”

Suga’s hands and feet go cold, and he looks down at his fingers, picking at the nails. He chews his lip, and sucks in a breath. He looks up, meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes. Iwaizumi freezes, like he’s gazing into the void for the first time.

“I…” Suga licks his lips, unblinking. “I think I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Ushijima adopts a pet.  
> Suga thinks about some things.  
> Kunimi deals with fang-chasers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy two chapters in one day because this is so much easier to write compared to my main fic lol
> 
> also for legal reasons do not do anything Bokuto does in this chapter

Oikawa’s adjusted to life as a vampire’s servant the best that one can do. He and Iwaizumi have achieved marks, something that shocked Tendou greatly. Apparently marks were reserved for lovers, but Oikawa and Iwaizumi were far from it. They were servants to a powerful master, equal only to the other maids and groundskeepers. They were-

“My pets,” Ushijima’s voice carries down the hall from his bedroom, Oikawa stopping in his tracks, freshly laundered sheets draped over his forearms.

“Oh do not call them that,” Tendou’s voice teases. “I was once a marked human, you know.”

“But I had intentions of turning you,” Ushijima reasons. “They are not lovers, not sires. If I feed and house and care for them, are they anything other than pets?”

A cold, dreary sort of dread pools at Oikawa’s feet and just out of reach of his fingertips. It seeps up through the floor, rippling like a soft breeze through the linen. Pets? Is that all he is to his master?

“They are human, Wakatoshi,” Tendou’s tone drops, irritated but not surprised. “Like I was once. I am not a pet, am I?”

“No,” There’s a silence, and then the sound of a kiss. “You are far more precious to me than a pet.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, coming from you.”

“It was.”

“Then I should reward your kindness, my love.”

There’s more kissing, more rustling, a pleased moan, and Oikawa unsticks from the floor, swiftly turning on his heel to take off back down the hall, stepping out into the bright garden. Iwaizumi drops the sack of soil in his hands and runs up to Oikawa, who falls to his knees.

“Are you hurt?” Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa’s sleeves as Oikawa trembles in his arms. “They did not take blood from you, did they?”

Oikawa shakes his head, making sure the linens don’t touch the floor, but they wrinkle as he clenches his hands, holding them close to his tightened chest.

It’s only then that he realizes that he’s been crying.

-

“Man, how do you guys do such long shifts,” Bokuto stretches, a small whine escaping his throat which turns into a yawn. He continues cleaning up the bar, mind on autopilot as he talks. “I can’t believe sleeping four hours is normal, I get up at seven, work a shift at school, grade papers with Konoha, work here until one, and then I _still_ have hours before I need to sleep. Crazy.”

“Yeah?” Suga yawns, close to collapsing on the bar, checklist in hand. “Well I need at least eight. Tooru’s been sleeping weirdly these past few weeks, so I don’t get good sleep when I’m here, and Tanaka started seeing some girl he works with at his new job, and all I can hear is him swooning over her on the phone with Noya.”

Tanaka’s been seeing a human girl named Kiyoko, who’s totally out of his league. But with a new job and a new promotion, and his job working in vampire-human relations, which is one no one was jumping at to take, he makes enough money to make himself more attractive.

Not that Kiyoko cares. Suga’s only met her once, and she seems absolutely taken with Tanaka’s personality, but that doesn’t keep Tanaka from trying his best to dote on her every chance he can get.

“Yikes,” Yamaguchi says, sweeping the cups and napkins into a pile in the middle of the floor. “I’m lucky if I get four hours, usually I only get two or three, but all the extra time is great for catching up on classes.”

“I would hate that,” Suga continues the closing checklist on his own, knowing that Oikawa’s visiting with Kuroo for a clan leaders-only meeting and Iwaizumi is upstairs feeding on whatever girl he picked up for the night. Usually Daichi takes the closing shift, but he’s taken the night off for a date with Michimiya, and from what he’s told Suga, their relationship is going well. Too well. Daichi showed Suga the ring he had picked out, and has yet to text Suga about her response, but he can guess what the happy couple’s gotten up to. “I wouldn’t know what to do with all that extra time.”

“Well I can think of a few things that Keiji and I do-” Bokuto says, and Hinata hits him with the back of his hand. 

“I just sleep in,” Hinata adds, propping open the door behind the bar to move boxes back inside. “You only _need_ four hours the same way humans only _need_ eight. Just sleep for longer, it’s not going to hurt anyone. If anything, you’ll just keep a more human schedule.”

“I don’t miss oversleeping,” Bokuto adds with a huff. “One time, I missed the first two classes because I went back to sleep after Keiji yelled at me to get up before he went to work.”

“Well that’s your own fault,” Hinata whistles, earning a playful hit. “I don’t miss the cuts and burns you get as a chef,” Hinata wiggles his fingers. “After Yamayama expelled that dude who hurt me, classes have been great again!”

“You know what I don’t miss?” Yamaguchi chimes in, leaning on the broom. “Being alone.”

Silence overtakes the four of them, all looking down at their feet or getting lost in their work, Yamaguchi’s mouth going tart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring everyone down-”

“To the clan,” Suga reaches over the counter and raises an empty glass, giving Yamaguchi a small smile.

“Oh come on,” Bokuto takes the glass out of his hand and puts it back, bringing out four shot glasses. “If we’re going to cheers, we’re going to do it properly.”

“I’m not old enough to drink yet,” Yamaguchi holds his hands out in front of him. “I don’t know if I should.”

“Oh come on, Tadashi,” Hinata laughs. “As far as the cops know, you’re a thousand years old.”

“I still don’t know if I should,” Yamaguchi frowns. “It wouldn’t feel right accepting one like this.”

“Here,” Bokuto pours the shots. “How about I put these four shot glasses on the counter, and if I happen to turn my back and one of them happens to go missing, then there’s nothing I can do about it, right?”

“How are you a high school teacher?” Suga deadpans, taking one of the shots, holding it up for Hinata and Bokuto to clink against. He throws back the liquid, and they all turn away, Yamaguchi sputtering behind them as a half-filled shot glass returns to the bar. 

“One of life’s mysteries,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows. “But it did take a lot of convincing on Kuroo and Oikawa’s part to get me cleared to work at a nightclub. I even caught a student in here once with a fake ID!” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I gave them a very stern talking to, and I am a great homeroom teacher.”

“Great enough to have one of your students use a fake ID?” Suga snickers, and Bokuto sends him a glare.

“Oh shut up, Suga,” Bokuto cleans the four shot glasses, and Suga checks it off the list, tapping the pen against his lips.

“Hey, Bokuto,” He looks around at the other two young vampires. “How’s your transition going?”

“It’s good,” Bokuto considers. “Been a few months now, and I’ve gotten better at feeding cleanly,” His eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Suga looks down at his list, still feeling Bokuto’s gaze. He writes something down, and his eyes drift upwards, meeting gold. “What?”

Bokuto smiles, a rumbling chuckle resting on his lungs. He gives a knowing look, pointing silently, and turns around to finish up the last of his closing duties. He mutters something under his breath and looks over his shoulder, laughing a little more. 

“Alright,” Suga sets the pen down. “I’ll bite. What is it?”

“Oh, nothing,” Bokuto lilts. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout things.”

“I’ll tell Akaashi that you’re the one that ate his leftovers in the fridge,” Suga threatens, and Bokuto’s face twists into horror.

“You’re evil, Suga-san,” Bokuto says in wonder. “Truly evil.”

“He’s laughing because you two went through the same thing,” Hinata jumps in, taking the pen and signing off his own duties as being completed. “Aware of it or not, you obviously want to make the chang-”

The doors swing open, and Oikawa enters with a frustrated groan. “I left my goddamn key to the house in my other jacket,” He shivers, taking off his coat and draping it over his arm. “I didn’t want to pass through here, I’ll get roped into doing work.” His eyes fall on Suga, and his lips twitch upwards. “But maybe it was worth it.”

He walks over and wraps Suga in a hug, pressing his lips into Suga’s hair. 

“Did you walk home? You’re freezing.”

“It’s not that far of a walk,” Oikawa mutters against his hair, warming himself up against Suga’s skin.

“Through snow and freezing temperatures,” Suga reaches up and flicks his ear.

“Ow!” Oikawa cradles his ear, everyone else either clocking out or giving them space. “It’s not like I can get sick.”

“Still, take care of yourself, you big idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa looks over the checklist. “Now what can I do to help you get upstairs faster?”

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Suga clicks his pen. “I worked the opening and closing shift, I think that if I take a bath I might just fall asleep in it.”

“How dare you accuse me of only wanting you for your body,” Oikawa feigns hurt. “I am a much better person than that.”

“That’s not what you said on your meal break,” Suga kicks at him. “Now go get a trash bag for Yamaguchi, that’s all that’s left.”

He points his finger, and Oikawa obediently follows Suga’s orders. “Yes, dear,” He exaggerates, going behind the bar and throwing a roll of giant garbage bags at Bokuto, who holds it open for Yamaguchi to sweep the cups into. Suga crosses it off his list, and checks the time with a tired sigh, collapsing over the bar.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here, Koushi,” Oikawa taps his shoulder, Suga waving him off with a groan. “Oh, really? Now you’re being difficult?”

“Yes,” Suga mumbles into his arms. “My feet hurt and I’m tired.”

“We really have to get you new shoes,” Oikawa huffs, hoisting Suga up into a bridal carry.

“Hey!” Suga protests, grabbing onto Oikawa’s shirt. “Put me down, Tooru!”

“No,” He hushes Suga, fighting his kicks as he turns to the three vampires. “You three can clock out and lock everything up. Freckles, I oddly trust you the most out of everyone, so just lock the door with the key behind the bar when you leave.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Alright,” Oikawa turns his attention back to the man in his arms, grinning down at him like he’s won. “Let’s get you upstairs, have you eaten yet?”

“Yes,” Suga stops fighting, waving off the employees as Oikawa opens the staircase and carries him upstairs, the muffled sounds of a bed creaking and faint moaning coming from Iwaizumi’s room. Suga and Oikawa scrunch up their faces in unison and go to their own room. 

“God,” Oikawa sets Suga down on the bed. “Hearing Iwa have sex is like walking in on your parents.”

Suga laughs, and catches the shirt Oikawa’s thrown at him, Oikawa slipping on Suga’s old favorite shirt, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them aside. It doesn’t matter that Suga’s shirt is in his drawer, since their laundry’s gotten mixed up anyways. Oikawa will often wear Suga’s casual clothes since they’re more comfortable, and Suga’s stolen nearly all of Oikawa’s hoodies for himself. 

“I always thought that Iwa would have at least some sort of bisexual vibe,” Suga and Oikawa go into the bathroom, taking turns with the toothpaste and trying to ignore the sound of water running and voices in the adjacent bathroom.

“You know,” Oikawa spits the toothpaste before Suga does, having been spit on too many times to not have learned his lesson. “I thought the same thing. I thought he’d get a little more experimental as we aged, but no, he’s only been with girls.”

“Ah, too bad,” Suga spits out the toothpaste onto Oikawa’s hand as he reaches out to cup the water. “Girls are great, but honestly? Guys are better. For me, at least.”

“I’m honored,” Oikawa rinses his mouth out and flicks the water into Suga’s face, Suga doing the same with a tired chuckle. “And I agree. Nothing wrong with girls, but how could I ever go back after sleeping with you?”

Suga rolls his eyes, and goes to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers. “It’s your turn to top next.”

“Do we really have to decide that now?” Oikawa joins him, crawling into bed and turning on the lamp. “I like to decide in the moment.”

“We both lean towards being bottoms,” Suga puts an index finger under Oikawa’s chin and smiles. “Neither one of us is going to take charge in the moment.”

“I don’t know, Suga, with the way you act, I’m very much a switch,” He runs a hand up Suga’s arm, and Suga stares.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I was exhausted, Tooru,” Suga turns around to face the other direction, pulling Oikawa’s arm over him. “Try again in the morning.”

Oikawa turns out the light and snuggles up closer, smelling his shampoo in Suga’s hair. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He wants to tease him again, but Suga’s light snores start to fill the room, and Oikawa can’t bring himself to wake someone so beautiful when they sleep. 

-

“Well hello there, newbies,” Kuroo smiles at Kunimi from across the booth, moving on to Yahaba and Kyoutani, then to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, ending on Oikawa and Iwaizumi. 

It’s a lot of people to fit in one booth, and it’s almost suffocating with the aura of a pureblood looming over them. Kunimi pulls on his sleeves, and sips on the drink in front of him.

“Lots of humans now, right?” Kuroo’s eyes fixate on Oikawa. “How is everything going along?”

“Nothing to add since the last time I saw you,” Oikawa mutters under his breath, and Kunimi’s eyes widen slightly at the fact that he would speak to a pureblood in such a way. “I have Suga, Iwa’s still feeding on volunteers, Shorty has Kageyama, Daichi has his fiancee, Ennoshita transferred to another clan, I have no idea what Noya gets up to in his free time but he feeds himself, and Yamaguchi is still a host.”

“Bokuto and Akaashi?”

“One of Akaashi’s work friends offered to feed him for a short time, and Bokuto is an honorary member of a clan under Atsumu’s extended control,” Oikawa lists off. 

“And how are you five fitting in?” Kuroo leans in. “That’s mainly why I’m here, after all. Oikawa’s not too much of an asshole, is he?”

“No, Sir,” Yahaba says.

“Yes,” Kunimi says at the same time.

“I’ll take that as an okay,” Kuroo sips on his cocktail. “And what about you, bumblebee?”

“What did you just-” Kyoutani snarls.

“He’s fine, Sir,” Yahaba bows his head. “The hours don’t always work, but he’s here when he can.”

“He’s actually a great worker,” Iwaizumi adds, eyeing Kyoutani. “A good asset.”

Kyoutani seems to mellow at Iwaizumi’s words. He’s the second person Kunimi has ever seen Kyoutani kneel to, and it’s almost comical to watch. Especially when Oikawa’s the one he should be groveling at the feet of, but then again, Iwaizumi’s always been on par with Oikawa.

Kuroo looks at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, eyes flickering between analysis and distaste. 

“I think they should be marked.”

“What?” Hanamaki breathes.

“Marked,” Kuroo repeats. “I’m not going to explain what it means-”

“We know what it means,” Matsukawa interrupts, and everyone falls silent at the act of them doing something so disrespectful to someone like Kuroo. “We want to know why you want us marked.”

“Ah,” Kuroo smiles, the act almost greasy. “We don’t want another alleyway incident, do we, Oikawa?” Oikawa’s jaw clenches, and Kunimi knows that Kuroo’s hit a sore spot. “I think it’s in everyone’s best interest that anyone that… lingers around the clan to have a bit of security. The only reason Daishou hasn’t retaliated for his vampire’s death is because Tendou’s the one who offed him.”

A chill runs down Kunimi’s spine at the mere mention of his name. 

“And I think we all know that a war against Tendou is a losing one.”

“So, you want us to just, what? Mark them against their will?” Oikawa crosses his arms. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What was the alleyway incident?” Hanamaki asks slowly, one of his eyebrows raised, and Kunimi knows they’ve fallen right into Kuroo’s trap. 

“Oh, nothing special,” Kuroo waves him off, the hint of an inside joke hidden in his voice. “Just a reminder that sometimes it’s better to get offered a second chance.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa look at each other, exchanging glances.

“And,” Kuroo adds. “I’ll even offer my own blood to stave off the cravings, should that second chance come to pass.”

“We’ll do it,” Matsukawa says, Hanamaki furiously nodding. “We're here for a fun time _and_ a long time.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Kuroo smiles, and his eyes flit to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. He’s heard of Kuroo’s plans to get more marked humans to help ease vampires into proper society, but it’s strange to see in person. Before, marked humans were lovers, close friends, and the families of vampires, a mark to show that killing this human meant war with another vampire. 

Now, in Kuroo’s territory, at least, it’s anyone that’s remotely close to a vampire.

“Now, it’s just a matter of which of your little gremlins wants to take them. Of course, you two can still chase after vampires all you want, a mark won’t keep you too much from what you’ve been doing so far, so just choose someone that doesn’t have one yet and-”

“I’ll do it,” Kunimi cuts him off, all eyes falling onto him. “These two are idiots, but they were part of my clan longer than they were part of anyone else’s.”

Kuroo purses his lips and nods. “If Oikawa’s okay with that-”

“It’s fine by me,” Oikawa boredly mutters. “They’re still part of the clan no matter what. Not like a mark will change anything.”

“I’d really wish for you guys to stop cutting me off,” Kuroo stares down Oikawa, finishes his drink, and slips out of the booth. “But if you’ve decided on someone to mark them, then my work here is done. Just text me proof of marking later on or whatever,” He stretches his legs, and spots Bokuto at the bar. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go yell at Bokuto for being deceptively good at poker. Hey Bokuto! What the hell, man!”

He walks off, and Oikawa turns to stare down Kunimi. “I didn’t expect you to be the one to step up, you sure you want both of them?”

“Yeah, well,” Kunimi sits back in his chair. “Like I said, these idiots are mine,” He looks at Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who wear a twin heartfelt look. “Besides, everyone knows that there’s going to be one less marked human pretty soon.”

“Yeah,” Everyone breathes, Oikawa’s face twisting in confusion.

“Who?” He innocently asks. “Why didn’t I know about this? Is Kageyama finally quitting?”

Everyone just stares, and Iwaizumi reassuringly pats Oikawa’s shoulder, hanging his head in disappointment.

“You’ll figure it out one day, Tooru-dono.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> Tendou yells at the sky.  
> Oikawa gets the feels.  
> A line that made the author cry too many times for it to be healthy please someone help me I am way too emotionally attached to a volleyball anime.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Oikawa feels when his eyes pry open is the overwhelming numbness in his limbs. He’s never felt so heavy after a feed, never felt so fatigued after passing out. He can taste blood in his mouth, the coppery twinge that rests heavy and bitter in the back of his throat.

The second is how incredibly dry his mouth is despite that, how his throat feels like all the muscles are rubbing against each other in all the wrong ways. He tries to lick his lips, but there’s nothing to wet them, nothing to comfort how _terrible_ he feels.

And he’s not alone in the room.

A small twitch slices through the air, and Oikawa jerks his entire body around to face Ushijima, who sits on his masters’ chair, eyes following his every move. Eyes that have softened, as to not look at prey, but to calculate an equal.

Oikawa knows that look. He’s been here since he was eighteen, and that was a regrettably long time ago. Six years is enough time to pick up one person’s mannerisms, especially when you’ve spent enough quality feeding time with him to know every motion, every tell, every insult and diminutive.

It’s the look he gives Tendou, the look he gives Sakusa, the gaze of a fellow monster.

Oikawa clutches his throat, feeling for the puncture wounds that Ushijima would have offered to heal by now. But his skin is pristine, unmarked, unmarred. 

His hand drifts to his mouth, and makes contact with fangs. 

_His_ fangs.

“I see that I have taken it too far this time,” Ushijima says like it’s the easiest mistake to make in the world. “And for that, I apologize.”

“I…” Oikawa rasps, throat grinding rawly against itself. “I have fangs.”

“You have turned,” Ushijima stands up, and Oikawa flinches. “It is my own mistake.”

“Mistake?” Oikawa sits up on his knees, dropping all formalities in his building rage. “My death is a mere mistake?”

“You should watch your tongue,” Ushijiima’s eyes narrow, a new sort of aura seeping out of him that screams for Oikawa to obey. “I am still your master.”

Oikawa only knows as much as he’s been told, not allowed to know more, and not blessed enough to know less. Turning is final, there’s no going back. He is dead, and he has been revived.

Murdered.

Oikawa clenches his jaw, eyes forced to gaze upon the floor, hands trembling as he grabs at his bloodied robe. He’s been killed. His human life is gone. He’s nothing more than the monster who called him a pet, called him a pet like it’s some sort of compliment. His lip trembles, but his eyes are wide open.

“Now, you were not meant to turn, Oikawa, I have no intentions of keeping you as you are.”

Oikawa seethes, biting his lip so hard it draws blood. A weak trickle, since most of what _had_ been in his body is now spilled on the mat before him. That damned mat, it was never dry. Oikawa starts to shake.

“I cannot lose something so precious to me, since you are as good of a worker as you are.”

Ushijima continues with the compliments. Oikawa’s never been one to love Ushijima’s phrasing, but there was nothing he could do as a human. How could he, a human, ever go up against someone as strong as Ushijima?

But he’s not a human anymore.

“You are becoming quite a problem, Oikawa, are you not?”

_He’s on equal footing._

“No,” He whispers, staring at the blood that’s soaking into the cloth, clinging to his knees.

“What did you say, pet?”

Oikawa meets Ushijima’s eyes, mouth moving faster than the rest of him.

“I said no.”

His right cheek stings, his head pointed left. The sting starts to burn, and he stares blankly at the wall, wondering how long it’ll take Tendou to come rushing when he hears defiance. Two minutes, at most. Worst case scenario, he’s standing outside the door.

But he’s already dead.

In this manor, he’s as good as dead, and outside the manor walls, he’ll only ever be dead to the world. His mother, his sister, Takeru… He’s been dead to them since he was sold off, the yearly money for his blood, his body, his work, his time, his very _existence_ within the House of Ushijima, enough to buy a wagon of soybeans.

He’s been dead the moment he stepped through these doors.

He stands to his feet despite the sting, despite the threat of another, despite himself. He’s sore, he’s tired, throat raw, limbs heavy, but he’s never felt stronger. More sure of his own ability, his own strength and capabilities, having stared down those crimson voids every night since he was marked. He knows the eyes of a monster, knows what it’s like to stare death in the face.

He is a monster, through and through.

And he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

Ushijima barely has time to move before Oikawa latches onto him, digging his fingernails into his arms with an animalistic snarl, his heavy frame staggering backwards. Less than two minutes, that’s all the time he has. All the time he has to get free.

Ushijima pushes him off, eyes wide at the audacity. Oikawa lunges, fangs bared, hands outstretched to grab at anything that might help him. He crashes into Ushijima, the sheer force enough to knock him over, Ushijima calling out for Tendou. 

Less than a minute. 

Oikawa struggles against Ushijima’s grasp, but swings a leg over his body, using his knee to pin him down. Ushijima fights, strains, pushes against Oikawa with the might of a freshly fed monster. But Oikawa has the upperhand, the positioning, the small window of shock.

New monsters are stronger, so it seems.

His fangs itch, ache, beg to sink into flesh. His vision is flooded with red, an angry shade, a vengeful blur. His fangs itch, and itch, and itch, and he can smell his own blood underneath the thin surface of Ushijima’s skin. Plump veins, calling back to him.

He bares his fangs, and bites, Ushijima using the moment to flip them with a heavy grunt, pinning Oikawa’s shoulders to the floor as red dribbles thickly from his neck, hot and slick, a chunk of meaty flesh between Oikawa’s teeth. Oikawa spits it back into his face, and the door swings open. 

Oikawa looks in horror, and Iwaizumi looks back. Ushijima calls out for Tendou again as he wistfully turns his head towards the door, frowning as his eyes meet Iwaizumi’s. A small retch tears from his throat as he freezes, choking on thick copper. He looks down, Oikawa’s hand planted firmly inside his ribcage, clenching.

Oikawa pulls, and Ushijima falls.

Less than a minute.

Way less than a minute. 

Oikawa pushes the body off of him, and pushes himself off the floor in one frantic motion, grabbing Iwaizumi by the hand and taking off down the hall. He’s soaking wet, his hair matted with blood, and he can’t tell whose it is anymore. The blood is heavy, for his nose and his mouth, the bitter taste replaced with a fresh blossom across his tongue. 

But it’s slow. They’re too slow. He’s better off just carrying Iwaizumi, racing through the manor with the surprised shrieks of his former co-workers. He’s killed the master. His maker. Ushijima is dead, and if he takes Iwaizumi with him as he is, they’re both dead.

They’ve both been dead the minute they arrived.

He stops in a hall, Tendou angrily shrieking from another part of the house, more servants screaming bloody murder, shouting their location. They’re near the door, the way out, the way to freedom, if they can get past Tendou. 

He puts his bloodied hands on Iwaizumi’s stony face, his muscles shaking under his touch. Oikawa scans over his face, his eyes. Yes, if he takes Iwaizumi with him, they’ll both surely be dead. 

“Iwa, forgive me,” Oikawa rubs his thumbs over Iwaizumi’s cheeks, the words barely above a whisper.

His wrists jerk, a sick crack resonating through the entrance hall. Another crack follows, a small wail for mercy, Oikawa’s apologies. A third crack, more sickening than the last two, and a heavy thud. A swoop, and a door kicking down.

Oikawa, running, fleeing, fleeing the estate with nothing more than a bloodied robe and a body, a half-moon barely lighting up a path that Oikawa can just make out. A squelch, another bite into rigid flesh, a baby monster’s first bite, and faster footsteps slapping against the hardened ground.

Above them, a starry sky, purples, blues, and blacks mingling in perfect harmony, elegant serenity. Stars that watch over nights so bleak, nights so bloody, nights so grim. Stars that never forgive, and never forget, and stars that swear revenge.

Behind them, Tendou yells a promise, and the stars listen.

-

_”-such sources report an increase in what vampires refer to as “marked humans” overtaking parts of Tokyo-”_

_”-we have NO idea what they want! Why did vampires reveal themselves? They are STILL planning something-”_

_”-No, I am your fa-”_

Suga groans.

“There’s nothing good on,” He turns the tv off, stretching out on the couch as Iwaizumi joins him with popcorn, takes the remote, and turns it back on.

“If you call Star Wars not good again, I’ll smite you.”

“Oh, so scary,” Suga sits up, stealing some of the popcorn as Iwaizumi flips through the channels. “Smite’s a big word.”

“Consider yourself smit.”

“Smote,” Suga corrects, looking around. “Is Oikawa going to join us?” Suga looks at his phone for the time, new messages showing up in his notifications. “I thought he said he was just going to take a shower.”

“Who the hell knows what’s up with him these days,” Iwaizumi shakes his head, and Suga responds to Tanaka’s latest texts.

Suga’s moving out, and Kiyoko is moving in. A small change, but a happy one. A welcomed one, especially when there was less to move out of his own apartment than was already at Vessel.

A very welcome change, indeed.

“Maybe he drowned,” Iwaizumi shovels popcorn into his mouth, eyes glued to the screen. 

“I hope not,” Suga leans on the armrest. “I really don’t want to deal with another drowning accident.”

“Hinata and Bokuto apologized for scaring you,” Iwaizumi returns, and Suga scowls, standing up.

“Still doesn’t mean I’m not haunted by the fact it takes Bokuto longer to drown than Hinata does.”

“Hey, you’re just angry because you bet on Hinata,” Iwaizumi points knowingly, and Suga rolls his shoulders, walking off to his and Oikawa’s room and walking right in.

The human-shaped lump on the bed isn't a good sign, and the way the lump shudders is even worse. Suga sucks in a breath, exhales, and closes the door, going over to the edge of the bed and folding his hands in his lap.

“You okay, Tooru?”

“Yeah,” His voice cracks, shoulders bouncing with a sob.

“Do you want me to stay here or just let you be alone?”

“Here,” Oikawa pulls back the covers, revealing his red-tear-stained face and snotty nose, bloody tissues crumpled in his hand as he wipes away some of the tears. 

It looks like the worst of it is over, and Suga’s seen Oikawa cry more times than he’d like to admit recently, but it still hurts Suga that he still tries to go through it alone. He’s all for giving Oikawa his space, but Oikawa shouldn't be crying like this in the first place.

“Wanna talk about it?” Suga gets under the covers, pulling Oikawa closer to him. Oikawa fights the act a little, and Suga opens his limbs, Oikawa fitting himself inside at his own pace. 

“In a second,” Oikawa sniffles, bringing the only clean tissue up to his nose and blowing. 

Suga reaches his hand up and runs it through Oikawa’s hair, letting his nails gently rake his scalp, tangle in the strands, rubbing the faint scent of their apple shampoo in between his fingers. Oikawa shivers at the contact, and gives a small content sigh.

“Nightmares again?” 

Oikawa shakes his head, and Suga counts to ten before he tries again.

“Kindaichi?”

Oikawa shakes his head again, and Suga sits there, raking his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, some parts greasy and unwashed. It’s probably been a few days since he last showered, but no one’s going to point it out. Suga’s learned that Oikawa getting out of bed when he’s like this is a feat in and of itself, and he’s not one to judge.

Oikawa sucks in a shaky breath, and closes his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

“Suga,” He starts, his voice raspy and raw, his face pale and lips cracked. He looks like he’s been through hell, but then again, he probably has.

“Hm?” Suga questions, smoothing down his hair and exposing his forehead as he pets it. 

“I miss my mom.”

Suga stops moving his hand, and stares down at Oikawa’s eyes as the brown starts to peek out from his creaked lids. His face twitches, first in his brow, then the corners of his mouth, and his eyelids finally flutter closed. More creases, a puckering mouth, and clenched eyes. 

Red tears roll gently, and Oikawa opens his eyes, looking at the wall without moving his head before looking up at Suga.

It’s silent, the way Oikawa cries. His body quivers, the tears fall freely, and it’s never pretty. It’s puffy eyes, snot running down his chin, bloody tears dripping down his jaw. He scrunches up his face so much it’s probably painful, the way his forehead tries to right itself after so long just to be pulled into another furrow.

“I really miss my mom.”

The breath Oikawa takes is fragmented at best, and Suga bites his quivering lip. He’s never seen Oikawa so… innocent.

“I miss my sister,” His voice cracks, hands reaching up to fix his hair, touch his face, but end up only hovering before they fall back down to the bed. “I miss Takeru.”

He blinks away tears, sniffles, and lets out a soft sob, blinking up at the ceiling. 

“I’m so old, Koushi, I’m so fucking old. I don’t even know my real age. How old I’m supposed to be,” His voice strains, but he continues. “I miss sneaking out at night to read books with the scholar, and telling stories around a fire. I miss when the stars were bright, and summer nights were loud.”

He clenches his fists, closing his eyes, letting himself surrender to the short sobs that ripple through his body. 

“I never wanted to be a vampire,” He whispers, the words like a secret on his tongue. “I feel so old. All this time, all this history, and I’m still taken back to seventeen fucking whatever, running away from my first kill, convinced that I was a monster.”

“Tooru-”

“I miss my mom. I miss her telling stories of my dad at night, and how she dropped everything to take care of two kids and a grandkid on her own, and the way she would play with my hair,” Suga’s hand freezes. “I miss her terrible cooking, her fucking soup, her hugs,” His voice cracks, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. “I fucking miss my mom.”

He covers his face with his hands, sobs overtaking him as his palms muffle his words. His shoulders shake the whole bed, his entire body leaning into the tightening of his chest, the soft tugs in his hair.

“I… never said… thank you...”

Suga wipes his nose on his sleeve, exhaling slowly, his own tears hot on his cheeks. They don’t roll as much as slide, slide and drip off his chin and into Oikawa’s hair. They’re salty, humanly clear, a simple purge.

Oikawa’s chest rises and falls in random intervals, and Suga doesn’t dare let go, doesn’t dare move as Oikawa buries his face into his shirt, hands gripping at the fabric like they’re the last thing keeping him tethered to reality. Suga’s gripping Oikawa the same way, like looking away would prove it all to be a dream.

Oikawa, slipping through his fingers.

Oikawa, letting this side of him show.

A short accumulation of years of loneliness, unrecognized until this very moment. Suga lets himself cry with him, heart aching for a woman he’s never known. There’s probably traces of her in Oikawa, in Iwaizumi, but they all died long ago. 

A very, very long time ago.

Suga runs his hand through Oikawa’s hair, down his back, all while staring at the wall, fully aware of his own dissipating bleariness. He knows vampires, he knows vampires that are nineteen, or twenty-four, or twenty-six. He knows vampires that are in their seventies, one hundred… well over three centuries.

Not once has anyone shown real immortality. 

The curse of lonesome.

Suga’s heart throbs, hanging heavy in his chest, thumping slow and hard. The solitary heart of a human, the heart of a lover, and a worker, and a heart that so many carry just like he. 

But his heart belongs to Vessel. 

It has ever since he walked through the door. 

Oikawa’s cries start to subside, and he peels himself off of Suga, looking at the mess he’s made. “‘M sorry,” He mumbles, reaching for a tissue. “I’ll wash your shirt.”

“Are you okay now?” Suga stares, hand running up and down Oikawa’s arm as he nods. 

“Yeah,” He breathes, forcing a smile and wiping his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine now,” He inhales, holding the breath in his mouth, in his cheeks, and lets the bubble pop before fanning his face. “I should, uh, I should clean up,” He motions to his clothing, stands up, and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Suga watches the door for a second, the shower turning on after a minute, an eerie sort of silence following the storm. But it means the storm has passed, and Suga wipes the remnants off his own face, looking down at his shirt with a pitiful laugh. He stands up, closes his eyes with a short inhale, and changes his shirt, listening to Oikawa finally step into the shower, finally start to clean himself.

He goes back into the living room, stepping into the kitchen for something to drink, eyes falling on the tupperware that’s since been refilled with congealed blood. He scrunches his nose up and grabs a beer, sitting back down unceremoniously in his seat.

“Is he okay?” Iwaizumi asks, passing the popcorn back to Suga.

“I think he will be,” Suga nods, looking down at his drink. “I think the worst of it is over.”

Iwaizumi sniffs in response, and takes the popcorn back. “Consider yourself smote.”

Suga’s lips twitch upwards, and he wipes his face on the collar of his shirt. He returns his attention to the tv, away from his phone, away from Iwaizumi trying to hide the bloody tissues in his fist, away from himself. Star Wars is playing, the popcorn is nearly gone, and Oikawa is loudly humming some pop song as he gets dressed.

A normal, lovely night. One that Suga could live in forever.

He stares down at the popcorn, and takes a bite, savoring the taste before it escapes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely cried while writing this oops
> 
> Next Time:
> 
> Oikawa gets a sire.  
> Suga's heart leads him.  
> Vessel is a home.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s not the thrill of the night that’s calling, or the excitement of a gunshot from the room across from his, or the sweet beckoning song of a siren that leads him here. It’s a smell he knows too well that ends up luring him, sickly sweet and begging to be tasted, begging to blossom full and red across his fangs.

It’s blood, and he knows it well.

An easy target, and easy feed, since it’s already wounded. Any new vampire would have lunged by now, attacked so fast that there’s no manners, no time to savor such a gracious meal, but he knows better than a fledgeling. He hasn’t lunged in years.

“Hey, kid,” He kicks at the body on the bed of the hotel room, tapping out his cigarette ash, blood trickling out into the sheets. “You’re dying, you know.”

The young man’s hand is wrapped around a revolver, a deep graze wound on his head splaying carnage sideways across his skull, and there’s not much time left.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette, the taste foul but the effect routine, smoke spilling from his lips. “Is that what you wanted?”

The younger man just stares up at the ceiling, tears welling up in his eyes, and he slowly shakes his head, pained in doing so. The older man tuts, and crouches down to eye level, inspecting the damage with a whistle.

“Chickened out last minute, did you? Nerves pulled the trigger before you could put the safety back on?” He grins, eyes scanning over how the man’s body is slowly draining of color. “Well, I don’t blame you. Gunshots aren’t fun unless you’ve got everything to lose.”

He runs his finger along the man’s neck, holds the cigarette between his teeth, rubbing the blood between his thumb and index finger. He takes the cigarette between his fingers and sucks the blood off his other hand with a puff of smoke.

“You know,” His tongue works over the blood. “If you’re going to do something like this, you should have chosen somewhere more discreet. Some poor old lady might have found your body if I didn’t get here first. But with a gunshot that loud, someone’s bound to come looking for you soon.”

He looks down at the man’s face, light slowly draining from his eyes. Eyes that scream regret, a regret he knows too well. Regret that’ll eat away at him if he doesn’t find something new to play with. He tsks at himself, stamps the cigarette into the ashtray, and hovers over the man, holding his head in his hands, giving him a light few slaps.

“Hey, kid, I’m feeling generous tonight, you want a second chance?”

He blinks once.

“Well alright then,” The man bites into his wrist, letting it dribble messily over the younger man’s lips. He chokes it down, and the man pats him down, fishing out a wallet with nothing more than a couple bills and a simple ID. “Okay, Kindaichi-chan,” He grins, watching the last bit of light fade from his eyes. “We’re gonna have so much fun together, yeah?”

-

The question, the mere thought, burns in Suga’s throat, hot on his tongue. He sips his coffee to tries and choke it down, but his throat won't let him. It’s been weeks since Oikawa recovered from his lull, brought himself to finally accept that his past is his past, and that the future is the future, and Suga hasn't been happier, which makes this all the more nerve wracking.

It’s been weeks since he moved in, weeks since Yahaba and Kunimi fully integrated as vampires at Vessel, fitting in like they had always been here, weeks since Yamaguchi introduced his own marked human, weeks since Hinata brought Yachi in as his second. Weeks since new bills and laws were enacted to protect vampires and their marked humans, since there's been an increase of vampire sympathizers in positions of power.

Vessel’s expanded greatly, the biggest clan under Kuroo’s watch, and a force to be reckoned with. Suga puts the mug on the counter, and Oikawa stares at him over the lip of his own mug, bringing it down with a frustrated sigh before he has the chance to take another sip.

“Okay, what is it,” Oikawa leans against the counter, Suga taking another long sip as he readjusts his position on the barstool. “You’ve been quiet all morning, there’s something on your mind.”

Suga sets his mug down, and meets Oikawa’s eyes.

“Vessel’s gotten bigger, I don’t have to work as many shifts anymore.”

“Well, Akaashi is a great manager now that Kunimi’s working the bar,” Oikawa sets his mug down and gives him a harder glance. “But there’s something else, you wouldn't get upset about something that small. What is it?”

The words boil up in his lungs, bitter but not unwelcome.

“There’s a lot of vampires here lately,” Suga folds his hands out in front of him. “And the number is only going to _grow.”_

“Well, there’s still all these hoops to jump through," Oikawa waves his hand, and Suga wants to slam his head against the counter. "You have to apply, get a pureblood to sign off on it, population control and all that. And Vessel isn’t really turning as many people as we are taking on people that were alread-”

“I applied,” Suga cuts him off, kneading his hands together to warm them up, heart thumping against his chest. Here goes nothing. “A few weeks ago, I applied.”

Oikawa opens his mouth and closes it, tilting his head in confusion, and Suga sighs, running a hand through his hair just to buy himself enough time to close his eyes and breathe. Steady, it needs to be steady, now that it’s all out on the table.

“For a change of status,” Suga continues, creaking an eye open, and Oikawa gawks. “They have a replacement ID on hold, they just… need proof of change.”

“You…” Oikawa points at him with his palm facing upwards, gulps, and points to himself. “You want to…”

“Yeah,” Suga nods, meeting his eyes, staring as if to cement his certainty. “I do.”

“And Kuroo?” Oikawa's voice cracks.

“Signed off on it about three weeks ago, but made me tell you to promise that Vessel will hold off on turning more people for at least a few more years.”

“Of course he did,” Oikawa sighs through his teeth, leaning forward in a steady building excitement. “But you? When did you?”

“Dying the first time wasn’t too bad,” Suga spins around in his chair, and Oikawa moves around the counter to meet him, taking his hands into his own, rubbing his thumbs over the cold skin. “We have five months before the ID change expires and we have to file again next year.”

“Five months?” Oikawa grins. “We don’t need five months, Koushi, if you want, I’ll turn you right now,” He reaches to check Suga’s mark, and Suga swats his hand away.

“Tooru,” He starts, biting back his tongue. “Remember the one thing I made you promise after the incident?”

Oikawa mumbles something under his breath, and Suga turns an ear towards him, both speaking louder in unison.

“You choose when you die.”

“I choose when I die.”

Oikawa squeezes his hands. “Alright,” He kisses Suga’s forehead, but his tone is nothing less than disappointed. “When you’re ready.”

He moves his hands up Suga’s arms, grazing his skin to make Suga shiver, and Suga flicks his nose. “Uh huh, yeah, my choice, Tooru, no seduction, no fear this time, just me deciding when I am ready to commit to immortality.”

“I can still try.”

“Yeah, no, let’s not forget the last time you used seduction on me,” Suga grabs Oikawa’s hands and drops them to his side, standing up to walk down the hallway and get ready for work.

“You said you wouldn’t speak of it!” Oikawa calls after him, cheeks growing hotter. He cleans up the mugs with a huff, shaking the memory from his mind and heads downstairs to where Iwaizumi and Tendou are trying to install a new sound system, arguing amongst themselves on what the correct way to set it up is. “So,” He starts, Iwaizumi’s head turning to him the minute he enters the room, Tendou stealing the control box from him. “Guess what-”

“Did Suga finally ask you to turn him?”

Oikawa points in accusation, and his eyes narrow.

“Did everyone know about this other than me?”

“Yeah,” Tendou hums, looking from the instructions up to the system’s wires, and back to the instructions, and shrugs at his work. “It’s been a long time coming, Tooru-kun, surprised it took you this long.”

“How long?" Oikawa stares. "Before the whole past thing happened?”

Tendou gives him a flat look. 

“What? Was it before that?”

Tendou turns to face Iwaizumi. “Was he always this dense? Or is this new?”

“He’s always been an idiot,” Iwaizumi fixes the wires that Tendou’s connected, recoiling and shaking his hand with a small zap, the smell of burnt flesh filling the room.

“Hm, I wonder where he gets it from,” Tendou deadpans as Iwaizumi clenches and unclenches his hand. “He decided a long time ago, the night he turned the first time.”

“What?” Oikawa freezes, and Tendou hikes his hands up in a shrug. 

“Probably just didn't want it so soon, but he mentioned it, said he'll choose when he gets to die, then immediately died.”

“I can’t believe this,” Oikawa shakes his head, pushing Iwaizumi out of the way to fix the wiring himself. “I could have had a vampire Suga this whole time if I just kept my damn mouth shut?”

“Oh, god,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t be allowed to have a sire that’s also a boyfriend. I don’t think I can handle how sappy you’ll be.”

“I am not sappy!” Oikawa checks his work, and shoves the booklet into Tendou’s arms when the latter starts to snicker. “What? Am I not allowed to be excited that the man I love wants to spend forever with someone as strong and amazing as me?”

Tendou and Iwaizumi give him twin looks of disgust, and Oikawa lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“Yeah, well, whatever,” He looks down at his hands, the hands that'll hold Suga forever, a soft sort of smile overtaking him. “It’s his choice, after all.”

Iwaizumi pushes his shoulder, and Tendou whacks him with the booklet.

“So cheesy,” Iwaizumi groans.

“Literally the worst,” Tendou agrees. “Enjoy your eternal boy toy.”

“Should be saying that to Suga,” Iwaizumi corrects.

“Right, my bad,” Tendou slaps the booklet into Oikawa’s chest and goes over to the bar, pouring himself a drink. “And don’t worry about this one,” He traces the rim with his finger. “I’ve gotten my childish revenge.”

He takes a long sip, and leans on the counter, eyes trailing off to the two of them, not trying to hide the hint of a smile.

“You two have something good, now. I… have something good going on for me, too.”

“Oh?”

“Vampire under Osamu’s rule,” Tendou smiles, the same way he did when looking at Ushijima. Bright, content, full of life from a time in which they all had plenty. “Semi. That’s his name, and uh, speaking of which, we have dinner plans tonight,” He checks his phone, and finishes his drink, pushing off the counter and walking backwards towards the door. “Gotta bounce, you know how it is. But really, I’m just a phone call away. Or text, since that’s what the kids are doing these days. I've really been enjoying catching up.”

He shoots them a peace sign, and walks backwards out of the entrance, the staircase door opening almost immediately as Suga walks in, buttoning one of his sleeves and hiking a leg up to fix his sock, new shoes on display.

“Was that Tendou?” He taps his toes against the floor, making sure they fit correctly, putting his hands on his back to crane his neck around to look at the back of his outfit. “Wish I could have seen him.”

“He’ll be back around sooner or later,” Iwaizumi picks up the tools and starts making his way to the maintenance closet. “He always comes back.”

“But Iwa!” Oikawa plops down in one of the booths. “He has a boyfriend! He’s… moving on? It’s just… it’s more than okay, and that’s what’s so weird.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi turns on the music, letting it cycle through his own favorites playlist, which is just a mix of classic rock and pop songs he’s heard play in the club over the past few decades.

Oikawa shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “We’re all moving forward.”

“It’s for the best,” Iwaizumi lets the music play, crossing the club floor to lean on the bar. “It’s great, even. We’re all over three centuries old, don’t you think it’s time we shook things up a little?”

Oikawa hums in response, and leans over on the counter, cradling his head in his hand. He brings his other up to the counter, letting Iwaizumi put away the tools and Suga gets a few unopened bottles of bourbon out to check their seals before returning them to the shelves. He twirls his finger on the wood, lips twitching upwards. Suga stares, and sighs, already regretting asking.

“What is it?”

Oikawa stops twirling his finger, and looks up with the happiest pair of red eyes that Suga has ever seen.

“So are you ready now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Time:
> 
> The final chapter.
> 
> Just one more chapter :) It'll take a little time to write just so I can get the emotions I want to convey right, but it should be up by the end of the month. And I would like to announce that I have another oisuga vampire story in the works to start regularly posting either after I finish my main fic or while I finish my main fic, if you'd like to subscribe to me or just keep an eye out for it!


	8. Chapter 8

**February  
Four Months Until ID Expiration**

Oikawa can feel it, the pressure building in his fangs, just achingly desperate to break the surface his lips are pressed against. He can feel every pulse point, Suga’s heartbeat rapid in the blissful aftermath of their actions, sweat clinging to his skin as he gasps for air. 

Oikawa trails down Suga’s chin to his shoulder, leaving not-so-chaste kisses the entire way down, Suga humming pleasantly in his grasp. His fangs graze the skin, tongue licking at the salt and the crook of his neck. Suga brings his hand up, and lightly grabs a fistful of Oikawa’s hair, pulling his head back.

“You already ate, Tooru,” He breathes a reminder, running a finger over Oikawa’s fangs, lightly pressing the pad of his index finger into the point as he rests his head on Oikawa’s shoulder. “Nice try, but you’re not turning me tonight.”

“Awe,” Oikawa groans in fake disappointment, moving to kiss Suga’s hand, every one of his fingers, and finally, placing his lips on his wrist. “Don’t you think this is romantic, though? A feat so passionate we just have to add forever into the mix? Cause damn, I could definitely cater to your every whim until the sun explodes or whatever.”

“I’m not getting turned after sex, Tooru,” Suga turns red and flicks his ear. He grumbles something about having to get blood out of the sheets if it were to happen, and pulls his hand away in favor of resting it on Oikawa’s chest next to his head. “I want to shower. Eat the leftover pizza I have in the fridge. Maybe go another round,” Oikawa stirs at that last one. “But I’m not dying tonight.”

“Tch,” Oikawa tuts, running a hand on Suga’s back, making him shudder. “Fine, your choice, after all. And we still have time.”

“Plenty,” Suga says curtly and pulls away, smoothing down his hair. He swings his leg over Oikawa, lifting himself into his lap, leaning down to cup his face and lock him in place. “Now shut up, you’re ruining the mood.”

-

**March  
Three Months Until ID Expiration**

Oikawa stares, eyes narrowed, leg bouncing as Suga shovels popcorn into his mouth, chin practically melting into his body as he chews, pieces falling onto his chest. He sticks his tongue out and cranes his neck trying to stick it to a piece that’s near his mouth.

He looks to the side as he coaxes a piece into his mouth, and his eyes widen with the prospect that he’s been caught red handed.

“You saw nothing,” He picks up the piece with his fingers and pops it into his mouth. “If you tell anyone, they’ll never find your body.”

Oikawa just continues shaking his leg, and Suga sets the popcorn aside. 

“Alright,” He twists to lay on his stomach, resting his arms and head on Oikawa’s thigh to keep it from moving. “What’s up?”

“It’s March,” Oikawa says matter-of-factly, a wet scream sounding from the tv.

“Yes,” Suga hums, kicking his legs up in the air. “It is.”

Oikawa looks at him expectantly, and Suga stares back with an even tenser glare. Shit, he can’t win a stare-down contest with Suga. He blinks, and looks down in defeat. 

“Suga, if you don’t want to be a vampire-”

“I never said that,” Suga freezes.

“It’s March,” Oikawa reiterates. “And Kuroo is breathing down my neck to see if you’re going through with it or if he should grant it to someone else.”

“Oh, don’t blame this on Kuroo,” Suga frowns, his chest falling with a sigh. “I don’t know, I definitely want to turn, but like, no time has ever felt right, you know?”

“I was killed by accident, is there really ever a good time-” Suga glares, and Oikawa’s mouth slams shut, mouth going dry.

“Bokuto and Akaashi had a fully planned out thing, had a date, and a time, and a plan. That’s a good time. I want that. Maybe. I think I want that.”

Oikawa lets air out of his lungs, and turns the tv volume down, Suga moving to sit on his knees. He pauses to let Suga continue, but Suga clearly doesn’t want to be the only one talking.

“I know,” Oikawa starts, and Suga stares him down, which is going to be infinitely scarier with crimson eyes. “I know. But every time I try to initiate something or propose a plan, you get all weird, and then I get uncomfortable too, and then-”

“Tooru,” Suga cuts him off. “I’m just trying to cope. I want to come to terms with being a vampire before I have another fledgeling time limit.”

Oikawa nods. “And where are you right now?”

“Still stuck on the fact that I’ll watch my little brother grow up without me,” Suga says grimly, avoiding Oikawa’s eyes. “That my parents will only get older. I mean, watching you cry over your nephew and your sister and your mom,” His voice strains. “I don’t know. I know that even if I come to terms with it, I’ll still feel the same way ten, twenty, a hundred years from now.”

“Suga,” Oikawa draws out, pulling him in for a hug. “Don’t let my annoying ass and inability to express genuine emotions hold you back!” Suga guffaws in his ear, and Oikawa smiles, running his hands up and down Suga’s back. “How about this. When you turn, we can take weekend trips to Miyagi so you can spend all the time you want with your family. I wouldn’t mind one bit.”

Suga’s eyes widen in a way that makes Oikawa’s stomach turn fuzzy.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Iwaizumi was always a better Vessel owner than I was,” Oikawa laughs a little. “And you know what? If those six months expire, we just try again next year. Or the year after that. Or the year after that. You’re right. There is a good time to be turned, and if your time isn’t this year, then I won’t force it.”

Suga pulls back, eyebrow cocked. “You promise?”

“I do.”

“No asking after sex?”

“I promise.”

“No asking when you feed from me?”

“I will only open my mouth to drink.”

Suga nods, and rests his head on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Thanks for being so patient with me,” Suga breathes into his neck, nestling like he belongs. And he does. “I promise I’m working through it on my own.”

“Nah,” Oikawa shakes his head. “We’re getting through this together, okay? I love you, Koushi, and for that, I’d wait another three hundred years.”

“So sappy,” Suga scoffs, resting his head in Oikawa’s lap.

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me.”

“Am I?” He teases.

Oikawa flicks the back of Suga’s head. “I can still tell people you eat popcorn like an iguana.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Suga stares him down, and Oikawa keeps his mouth shut.

-

**May  
One Month Until ID Expiration**

“So, is Suga like, chickening out or something?” Bokuto pours a drink for one of his past students, and leans his hand on the counter, staring at Oikawa. “I mean, I couldn’t wait to turn, and it was Keiji who almost backed out.”

“I don’t fucking know anymore,” Oikawa sighs, pressing his palm to his head. “I’m just smiling and nodding. Every time I even say his name, he thinks I’m asking to turn him and he just says no, no matter what it is.”

“Well, you’re going to the beach later this week, right? That’s a romantic place to turn him.”

“I don’t think he’ll go for it. Plus, I’d want him to turn somewhere he’s comfortable.”

“Well he’s right.”

“Of course he is,” Oikawa sighs, leaning over the counter, watching Suga cross into the DJ area to talk to Iwaizumi, holding up a finger for Kuroo to wait a second before going over to talk to him and Kenma, who now has a permanent pair of red eyes.

“Felt that,” Bokuto lets out a boisterous laugh, slapping hs hand on Oikawa’s back. “But dude, from me to you, just remember that your fiance is _always_ right.”

His student snickers and says something about how he jumped out of a window upon seeing Akaashi once, and Bokuto elbows him, saying that he used to grade the man’s papers and knows that hs English is less than substantial. They share a laugh, and Oikawa blankly stares, standing up a little straighter.

“My what?”

“Uh oh,” The student speaks into his drink.

Bokuto’s face falls, his mouth puckering so hard it’s almost like a vacuum. “Shit, uh, I didn’t say anything.”

“Bokuto-” Oikawa starts, but Bokuto jumps over the counter, escaping to the dancefloor to no surprise of his past student.

Suga walks past the bar, and Oikawa gawks.

“Koushi!” He starts, and Suga puts up his hand without giving him so much as a glance.

“Not tonight, Tooru, I have more important things to do.”

Oikawa looks around wildly, hands gripping the bar counter. “Bokuto!” He watches the head of hair dip down into the crowd, making his cowardly way towards Kuroo for extra support. “Oh my god,” He sputters, thinking back to how Suga always said he hated the beach but thought it was one of the most romantic places to take someone for something special. He almost starts to vibrate in his shoes with excitement. “Oh my fucking god.”

-

**June  
Two Weeks Until ID Expiration**

This is always Oikawa’s favorite. 

Finally getting to scratch the itch of his fangs, dull the cravings, to sink his fangs into something so warm and precious and fundamentally _Suga._ His hot, buttery blood, the smell of his, no, _their_ shampoo. He could get lost in it, but he needs to hold back.

He pulls back on the bed and licks his lips only to paint them in pale crimson. He brings his hand up to his mouth and sucks the blood off of his fingers, paying special attention to his ring finger when he sees Suga staring.

“That’s gross,” Suga scrunches up his nose. “Just wash your damn hands.”

“I’d rather not waste a single drop,” Oikawa traces his tongue over the warm metal band around his finger, taking Suga’s hand to place a kiss on the matching ring.

They can’t get married, since vampiric weddings are still up for debate, but they can pretend. They already live together, own a business together, and _love_ each other, and it’s not like a piece of official-looking paper or tax benefits will change that. It’s only been two weeks, but Oikawa could get used to being by Suga’s side like this.

He’s impulsive, chaotic, loves dancing in the middle of their kitchen while butchering Shakira lyrics. He’s a terrible dancer, and loves spicy food way too much for Oikawa’s taste. He’s overly handsy, and loves to hit people when he’s excited, not to mention the way he flicks Oikawa’s ear in the way he hates.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

Oikawa would wait forever just to see Suga smile that shining smile, just to trace his smile lines with his fingers, feel the warmth as Suga fits into his arms like the puzzle piece he spent centuries looking for.

He reaches up to bite into his own wrist, and Suga gulps down mouthfuls more eagerly than usual. Oikawa presses his finger on the skin close to the wound, watching it start to slowly close up. Suga pulls back with a loud gasp for air, and Oikawa lifts his hand to ruffle it through Suga’s hair, the latter nestling further into his hold.

“Oikawa?” Suga breathes in his ear, small and barely a word.

“Hm?” Oikawa hums, licking up the trails that continue to pulse and spill.

“You can take… more, if you want,” The words are shy, but they’re certain and steady.

“I’m full,” Oikawa dumbly says, kissing around the bite.

“Tooru,” Suga starts again, a bit more forcefully. “I said that you can take more.”

“I’ve taken enough, if I take anymore I won’t be able to stop,” He moves up to kiss at Suga’s jawline, and Suga pulls back, his lips pursed, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Then don’t.”

Oikawa pulls back, eyes probably comically wide as he stares at Suga, who just nods a little in his confirmation. Oikawa blinks, almost like it’ll change Suga’s answer, but Suga turns his head to the side, exposing more of his still-bleeding neck.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Suga sucks in a sturdy breath, closing his eyes. “Besides, if I don’t like it after it’s done, I can still go back.”

“Alright,” Oikawa mumbles, tilting Suga’s head towards him with his index finger.

They kiss.

It’s a short kiss, simple and sickeningly sweet. Suga trembles against him, a breath rattling free from his lips as Oikawa sucks it in. Oikawa pulls away, and Suga looks up at him from under his eyelashes. His mouth parts, a whispered promise rolling off his tongue.

“I’m sure.”

He wastes no time swooping back down to lap at the holes, sinking his fangs back into a spot just a few inches away where the pulse is stronger. Blood squeezes out around his fangs, and Suga gasps lightly in his ear, a small whine of pain. Oikawa pets his hair, rubs his hand over Suga’s back in small circles as he replaces his fangs with the soft suction of his mouth, greedily taking mouthfuls of the fullest, sweetest nectar.

His stomach growls as he lets his inner hunter take over in hopes he doesn’t stop, his veins on fire, visibly plumping out. There’s a light tug on his shirt that clenches tighter, a small sound of discomfort escaping his prey. He latches on, trying to savor every last drop, sucking in and drinking everything that splashes onto his tongue. 

The prey in his arms whimpers, calling out to him in soft cries of light encouragement, but Oikawa’s too far gone to listen to them. The blood washes over him, fills his stomach, the pulse between his teeth growing slower and slower, the grasp on his shirt weak as the heavy scent of iron muddles his senses.

The steady suck of blood weakens, the splashes barely enough to coat his tongue, and even less enough to constitute a mouthful. He swallows shallowly, pulling out of the rigid skin as he licks his lips clean, the blood still pleasantly hot between his teeth. He smacks his lips, cleaning the unmoving trails. He pulls the body close to him as he lays back, the skin stiff and painted in beads of fallen ruby.

He brushes a piece of hair out of Suga’s face, and counts the minutes before those beautiful eyes snap open once more, his heart and stomach equally pleasantly full.

_-epilogue-_

“Here you are, Sugawara,” Kuroo holds up the small package between his fingers and gives it a little shake before laying it down on the counter and sliding it across the empty bar. “One vampire license.”

Suga picks it up and rips open the packaging, Oikawa looming over his shoulder to get a good look at his new ID. It’s his normal picture, but now it has a special red and black stamp in the corner, his date of birth now accompanied by the date of his turning. Other than that, it’s not different in the slightest, but it gets Suga to grin wider than what’s comfortable, his fangs poking out from behind his lips.

“Ooh, yours is pretty,” Oikawa runs his fingers over Suga’s picture, taking it from him and inspecting it in the light. “My Koushi’s so cute.”

“And your photo sucks,” Suga snorts, snatching it back.

“I was very tired that day,” Oikawa hisses defensively. “You should see Iwa’s, it’s even worse.”

“You better not be talking about my ID photo,” Iwaizumi warns, poking his head out of the maintenance closet with a hard stare. “I would burn it if I could.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Suga rolls his eyes, but the shake of Oikawa’s head says otherwise. “Really? Now I gotta see it.”

Iwaizumi just shakes his head, turns on his heel, lifts up a finger, and turns back.

“Oh, right, there’s some Type O in the fridge that someone needs to drink before it expires, if you want it, Suga.”

Suga scrunches up his nose. “I finally understand why no one takes it when I offered,” He shudders. “Old blood is terrible.”

“Agreed,” Everyone chimes in in unison. 

“Which reminds me,” Oikawa rests his head on Suga’s shoulder. “Wanna try some live feeding tonight?”

“As much as I would love to say yes,” Suga presses his cheek against Oikawa’s. “I’m totally not ready for that yet. I can try to feed off of Yachi or Kageyama first, and I think Daichi’s girlfriend is joining, too, so I can ask Daichi if it’s okay with him.”

“Drinking from another vampire’s girl?” Oikawa breathes a laugh. “So bold.”

Suga reaches up and cups Oikawa’s face in a way that means he’s in trouble.

“Would you rather deal with a dead body in our bed, Tooru?”

Kuroo’s stare hardens and Oikawa grumbles against Suga’s skin.

“Fine, I’ll guide you through your first live feeding with Kageyama.”

“Thank you,” Suga grins, and Oikawa rests a hand on his back, looking down at him with a pair of overly fond eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Oikawa ruffles his hair, using his height as an advantage when Suga reaches up to do the same. Suga pouts, and Oikawa bends down with a sigh, letting Suga run his hands through his hair with a small giggle.

“Alright, you two getting all lovey-dovey is my cue to leave,” Kuroo puts his hands down on the counter, lifting himself up. “Tell Bo I said hi, tell Shrimpy that Kenma wants to have him over for dinner, and, uh,” He looks them up and down, a small smile forming on his lips. “Don’t give Iwaizumi too much trouble at night.”

Oikawa gives a little salute and Kuroo gets up to leave with a shake of his head and a smile on his face. He turns back around, holding the door open with his foot, fists tucked into his pockets.

“Always knew you’d be the one to snap, Oikawa,” He considers the couple before him. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Suga feels his heart prick a little, swelling against his chest. Oikawa reaches down and squeezes his hand, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand. Suga squeezes it back, and gives Kuroo a small nod as the door swings shut, turning to face Oikawa with a quivering lip.

“Hey Tooru?” He asks, moving his hands up to wrap around Oikawa’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad we met.”

“I’m glad we met t-”

Suga cuts him off with a kiss, as innocent as it is full, Oikawa surrendering completely. He squeezes lightly, careful not to bite into Oikawa’s lower lip like he’s done too many times before, locking him in place. 

And oh, what a place to be.

In his home, in his bar, in the arms of his husband… 

He couldn’t ever ask for a better place to be than Vessel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for keeping with me throughout this entire journey, I really do appreciate every single one of you, and from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for reading :)


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